Kingdom Come
by NeverQuiteAwake
Summary: [Part 3 of the Shieldmaiden Saga] Months after defeating their deadliest foe, Eirlys and Loki are drawn back into adversity when the Convergence begins. Along with the Asgardians, they must work together to thwart the greatest threat the Nine Realms has ever seen. SPOILERS for Thor: The Dark World. Slightly AU. Loki/OC
1. Old Friends

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I'm back!

Dear returning readers, I am sorry for the ridiculously long wait. Life just loves to get in the way of writing! But I'm back in the saddle, and I'm ready to embark on another story with you all.

First things first, this story picks up where the last one left off. Since it's been so long, you may want to take a peek back as a refresher. Second, I feel like it should be said that we're in slight AU territory—we've pretty much verged off onto our own path already. There are details about settings and elements that I've fabricated for the sake of this series, and I'm fairly certain that they will eventually contradict the MCU continuity (like the Infinity Stones, for instance).

Unlike in the past, I probably won't be able to update weekly, though for what it's worth, most of the chapters are three times the length of earlier chapters.

Lastly, let me just give an all encompassing thanks to my beta readers, not-the-black-phoenix and Hr'awkryn. You guys are the best, and I don't think I would have made it this far without your help and support.

* * *

 **ONE**

* * *

 _old friends_

* * *

A single cursory glance at the sky, and most would not realize anything was amiss. It was of no surprise that human eyes had not noticed the oddity. The shift in the air was subtle and seemingly benign, a change that could've been attributed to the passing of seasons. And yet... it kindled a sense of unease within me. There was magic in the air, born not of any individual but of nature. Such occurrences were always a cause for concern.

I tilted my head, eyes narrowed at the curiosity. The light before us scattered at odd angles, the sun's rays striking the ground in different directions, generating abnormal shadows. It was as though light was disappearing into one space and appearing in another. They were two ends of a portal occurring just yards apart.

The frantic flutter of birds caught my attention then. Like a cloud, the flock soared higher into the sky, course wavering, until they vanished into thin air. Before I could voice my wonder, they emerged from nothing a mere half-dozen yards to the east of where they'd dematerialized. Brow lifting, I shared a look with Loki beside me.

His eyes glinted in a stray beam of sun. "Strange happenings indeed."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "And I suppose you know the cause of these strange happenings?"

"Of course. Is that a question that needs asking?"

Biting on the inside of my cheek, I suppressed a smile. "Well, you would never admit ignorance in the presence of these mortals. That is why I ask."

He returned his gaze to the sky, saying nothing further, and I knew I was right.

I cleared my throat and cast a look in the direction of Agents Hill and Barton. Despite their distance from us, I suspected they heeded our entire exchange. While we wondered at the strange phenomena, neither of them appeared to be the slightest bit amused. Maria Hill maintained her usual neutral expression, whereas Agent Barton glowered at Loki, an arrow twirling in his nimble fingers, ever seconds away from being nocked in his bow.

Five other SHIELD personnel hovered around them—scientists, if their unusual devices and lack of weaponry were any indication. They stood just behind Agent Hill, watching Loki and me as if we held all of the answers in the universe. Loki's evasion of my question led me to assume that, as much as he liked to pretend he knew everything, he possessed little more than speculation on the subject at hand. But the humans waiting on us did not need to know that.

Regardless of how much Loki did or did not know, my own curiosity could not be tamed. "When did this start, precisely?"

Upturning both hands, Agent Hill shook her head. "Hard to say. This was only called to our attention this morning. Our best guess is that this has been going on for days. According to our readings, the anomalies are getting progressively worse."

With a nod, I looked upwards again at the peculiar light. It would be no surprise to discover that these anomalies were related to whatever brought us here from Nidavellir. "Do you suppose the paths between worlds have been torn open?" I asked Loki.

"Doubtful," he said. "Whatever these... rifts may be, they are not the same as the paths we would open ourselves. And I assure you, I know the difference." Some may have mistaken his latter remark as one of pride, but I sensed it was quite the opposite.

"So this is rather out of the ordinary then..." I murmured.

"Yes, I thought we already established that?"

At his dismissive tone, I cast him a sharp look. But before I could return with a rebuke, my stomach decided to voice its displeasure right at that very moment. Ignoring the quirk of his mouth, I flushed and wrapped my hands around my midsection as if to quell its anger. I clung onto the last vestiges of my dignity and peered round at the agents of SHIELD. "My apologies. I have not had the opportunity to break my fast."

Agent Hill's stern expression did not change, but I swore I saw the gleam of amusement in her eye. "Somebody get Eirlys a muffin."

Thus far, Maria Hill had adeptly maintained some sense of cordiality. Agent Barton, on the other hand, did not have the same patience for it. "So, do you have anything useful to tell us?" He came around to stand before us, his grip on his bow tightening visibly. "Or are you just going to get in our way and waste our time? Because I have better things to do than stand around and watch birds disappear into the sky."

If Loki was at all irritated by his impertinence, he did not let it show. "Agent Barton, how wonderful it is to see old friends."

Barton looked to be on the verge of taking aim with his bow when I intervened, pressing Loki back with a hand to his chest. "Loki, please, they have been gracious enough to ask for our help politely." I lifted a brow at him and felt his muscles slacken beneath my touch. Still, the contention between them were not as bygone as I'd hoped. "I would not squander their good will."

Loki canted his head, gaze meeting mine. "And why should we even bother to care about their good will?"

"Because I care." A sad smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "They've helped us in the past. I see no reason to turn our backs on them now." A shadow passed over his features, dark memories haunting his eyes; it vanished as soon as it came, so fleeting that I almost didn't see it.

Loki hummed, smirk returning to its usual place. "Yes, of course. The mortals, after all, have barely begun to understand passageways such as these. They will always be in desperate need of our help."

Barton's eyes narrowed at the minor slight, but any retort he may have given was interrupted by the arrival of my morning meal. It came in the form of a small cake-like food full of blueberries accompanied by a thick paper cup filled to the brim with a dark liquid. Holding the drink aloft, I took a tentative sniff before recognizing the cozy scent. _Coffee_. A small sip warmed me through and through.

"We were just getting started when you two showed up," Agent Hill informed us. "This goes beyond mere curiosity. We see it as a cause for concern."

"Cause for concern?" Loki said. "Then I suppose some poor fool stumbled upon this site, which is what brought it to your attention."

"In short: yes." Maria Hill gestured for us to follow, which I did without delay. Unlike me, Loki seemed a touch more begrudging to accept direction from a human, small as it was. "A couple of those 'poor fools' are still here."

She led us past an overturned vehicle and several oddly stacked receptacles, not once commenting on the peculiar display. As we made our way across the expanse of pavement, I spotted an arrangement of white canopies. Amongst them, a number of SHIELD agents grouped together, prodding a dark-haired figure with their devices and rapidly spoken questions. It was not long before I identified the runaway speech that I could only belong to one human with whom I was acquainted.

Darcy sat under one of the canopies, a cup of steaming liquid clutched between her hands. Beyond her, another canopy sheltered a young man I did not recognize, the confusion in his expression well evident. I searched the area further for Jane Foster; if Darcy was here, in the presence of this anomaly, there was little doubt Jane would be nearby. Even so, she was nowhere to be seen.

When we made our approach, Agent Hill addressed the personnel surrounding Darcy, "Give us a minute."

They obeyed, scattering to allow us unhindered passage.

Darcy looked up, her gaze meeting mine in an instant. "Eirlys!" Plunking her cup down on the ground, she hurried to greet me. "It's been like a whole year. Hey, this looks nice." She motioned to my pristine armour and nodded in approval. "So, how's it going?"

"I am quite well." I smiled, gladdened for the first time since arriving on Midgard. "It is nice to see you in relative health."

As she grinned in return, her attention was soon drawn towards Loki. "Whoa, who's this?" She gave my shoulder a light shove in jest. "He your boyfriend?"

"I am Loki," he replied, eyes glinting. "You may have heard of me."

Her mouth all but fell open. Sidling closer to me, she shielded her mouth with the back of her hand before whispering, "Seriously? That guy's your boyfriend?" Her tone did not colour the question in a positive light, and I could not blame her for it. Loki's deeds—good and bad—must have been known to the mortal realm. Since he'd slain Thanos, I hoped they would depict him more favourably as time went on. They and the rest of the Nine Realms. But I had yet to see that result.

Disregarding Darcy's welcoming words, Agent Hill stepped between us to carry on with the issue at hand. "We're hoping they can help us figure out exactly what the hell is going on. Darcy, can you tell them what you told us?"

Coat clutched tight around her shoulders, Darcy motioned to the dilapidated building behind her with the tilt of her head. "Which part? There was a floating truck. But that wasn't as cool as the loopy portal thing where you could drop something in one end and it would come flying out somewhere else. Sometimes stuff wouldn't come back. We lost a lot of shoes." I blinked at the last comment, but the sudden furrow in her brow swept aside all curiosity. "Then Jane disappeared somewhere in the building for like five hours. That's when I freaked out and called the cops."

I glanced up at the building. "Jane disappeared? Like those birds before?"

"Yeah, except I thought she wasn't gonna come back," Darcy said, her countenance sobering further. "SHIELD showed up right after the cops did. I guess they've been keeping tabs on Jane since that whole thing with the purple what's-his-face. Kinda creepy, if you ask me."

Barton's palpable displeasure managed to deepen. "Creepy? You should be grateful we give a damn. I missed out on my leave for this?"

Darcy threw him a skeptical look.

"Excuse him," Hill interjected. "He's a bit grouchy about this new assignment of his. Please continue."

The animosity simmered in the air still. Nevertheless, Darcy did as requested and pressed onwards, "Anyway, before SHIELD even got here, Thor dropped down from the sky and snatched Jane right up when the cops tried to arrest her." With the haphazard wave of her hand, she gestured towards the Bifrost rune that had previously escaped my notice.

My brow lifted. "Thor was here?" I was somewhat mollified by the knowledge that he'd been here before us, offering the assistance of Asgard, as it were. Yet his abrupt appearance and subsequent departure indicated that whatever was occurring may have been worse than I'd assumed. The mystery of unfamiliar passageways in the sky was one thing, but having Jane Foster disappear for five hours only to be swept away by Thor felt like an omen.

Surprise coursed through me when Loki made plain his own interest. "And for what reason did my brother take her? Did he bother to offer any explanation?"

"Nope." Darcy shook her head. "But I think it had something to do with the big red, you know... _WHOOSH_ , that came from her." Her commentary was accompanied by an expansive sort of hand motion, one that Loki seemed to have no trouble rolling his eyes at.

In spite of his exasperation, he did not hesitate to press her further. "Describe what happened beforehand."

She shrugged. "Thor just appeared, then the cops tried to grab Jane, and this huge red shockwave came flying out of her. I don't really know how to explain it. It was super weird, is all I'm saying. Jane kinda fainted a bit before Thor took her away."

Although I found the entire event disconcerting, I could not understand its significance. Loki, however, appeared to have gleaned more. Brow furrowed, his face blanched just enough for me to discern in the pale light of the sun. Then, without preamble, he began walking towards the unfortunate building whose shadow we lingered beneath.

"I need to see the site itself," he said, not bothering to glance behind as we trailed after him. "Only then might I be able to ascertain what mysticism plagues us now."

I strode ahead of the others, my hastened steps making the shield strapped to my back bounce uncomfortably beneath my cloak. "You know what it was that Jane Foster encountered, don't you?"

"I might have an idea."

My brow rose. "An idea? Nothing more?"

Never slowing his stride, he cast me a look. "I would rather like to see things firsthand before settling on any one conclusion. Whatever it may be, I assure you Jane Foster has stumbled upon an ancient and powerful magic."

I could not suppress a breath of sardonic laughter. "Somehow, I do not find that assuring in the slightest."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "At the moment, I am far more interested in discovering the cause of these abnormal passageways opening seemingly at random."

"Then you won't mind if I take the lead." Agent Hill stepped ahead of us, guiding us into the derelict structure.

The inside of the building was in no better condition than its outside. The very air we breathed was musty and damp, the walls marred with rust and grime. We strode further inside, the occasional bird hopping past before taking flight to disappear into the rafters above. Despite the dreadful conditions, thus far, nothing seemed anomalous. And yet, when I glanced back at Darcy, her eyes darted about, the trepidation evident in her expression. Mere feet behind her, Agent Barton didn't appear any more at ease.

We passed through a narrow corridor, soon coming upon a towering, wide open chamber. Our steps slowed a touch, and my eyes widened at the sight that lay before us. A large vehicle floated in midair, yards from the ground, with nothing to support its flight. I had seen similar magic let loose by sorcerers, but such energy never existed by its lonesome.

A number of SHIELD agents were gathered around the vehicle, waving about their devices and making notations about this inexplicable find—inexplicable to them, at the least. Seeing Loki regard the vehicle with a keen eye, I wondered if he'd seen anything comparable or if he was concealing his bemusement in the presence of our human allies.

I had a mind to stop and observe the oddity closer, but Agent Hill showed no interest in doing so, giving the levitating vehicle little more than a cursory glance. We continued on our way, pacing round the display to ascend a set of stairs. Once or twice, I had to grip the handrail to keep from tripping on the debris and slippery mush of leaves. Halfway to the top, we crossed paths with several more SHIELD agents tossing a variety of cube-shaped objects down the stairwell. Like the birds we'd born witness to earlier, they vanished below and reappeared above, falling in an infinite loop.

Here, I paused, leaning over the edge of the rail to ogle the objects' endless descent. One fell a final time before never returning to fall again. "Has anyone discovered where the objects go?"

"Nope." Darcy came to a standstill beside me. "One of those kids volunteered though," she said, propping her forearms on the railing. "Jane didn't think it was a good idea, but I thought, if anyone should go, it should be the intern since he lost our car keys."

I furrowed my brow. "Intern?"

Darcy shrugged. "Yeah, I got a new intern to help with... stuff."

From behind her, Barton laughed. "He had no idea what he was getting himself into."

I graced him with a wry smile. "None of us ever do, Agent Barton."

In mere minutes, our company crested the stair and circled an opening in the floor that gave us a view of the steps below. "Energy readings go off the charts the deeper we go," Agent Hill informed us. "I've been told they look a lot like the readings we picked up when Thor first dropped in New Mexico."

Loki frowned at the mention, but he did not linger upon it. "That is of no surprise. The principles regarding connections between two different points of space are the same, irrespective of the cause."

"Is that your fancy way of saying magic did it?" Barton remarked, twirling an arrow still, even as we walked.

Deigning not to voice a response, Loki rolled his eyes once more.

At last, we crossed a final span of stone and reached another corridor. Here, we approached a waist-high barricade guarded by a handful of armed SHIELD agents. "We haven't allowed anyone past this point," Agent Hill said. "We've assumed that whatever weirdness Doctor Foster found down here made her disappear and reappear around the front of the building."

Eyeing the barricade with disdain, Loki brushed past it and stalked down the long hallway.

A heavy sigh on her lips, Agent Hill took a step closer to the barricade but did not dare cross. "I didn't say _you_ were allowed down there."

That she thought the humans could dictate what he could and could not do did little more than amuse Loki. He did not bother to glance behind as he called, "I suspect that which Jane Foster encountered down these halls will not bring harm to the likes of us."

When he kept on traversing the corridor, I sighed and turned to face Agent Hill. "Excuse his rudeness. It has been a long while since we've had civilized company, and I fear all forms of courtesy have diminished. Diminished further, that is. Courtesy was certainly never something at which he excelled."

Agent Barton scoffed. "I second that."

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I laid a hand on the pommel of my sword and passed through the barricade. "Perhaps it would be best if you awaited us outside in the instance we travel through the same passageways Jane Foster previously fell victim to. There is no knowing how long we may be."

"Uh... are you sure it's safe to go down there?" Darcy asked. "Because I'm pretty sure that didn't turn out so well for Jane."

I feigned a smile. "We have faced armies and mad titans before. I am certain no harm will come to us."

At Agent Hill's nod, I started down the hallway just moments after Loki turned a corner and passed from sight. Dead leaves crunched beneath my boots, the rattle of my sword at my side and the shield at my back echoing in the stone corridor. Casting one last look over my shoulder, I saw the three humans turn to make their way downstairs, four SHIELD agents remaining in their wake to guard the barricade. Upon their departure, I took a deep, steadying breath and followed Loki around the corner.

I nearly jumped when I found him leaning against the wall, waiting for me. He must've noted my reaction, for his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.

With a huff, I sauntered past him, slowing only to ensure he kept pace. "Tell me, Loki, how much would you happen to know about what is causing these disturbances? The lack of gravity, the unusual rifts in the realms—these seem like fairly worrisome occurrences to me." When I glanced his way, his brow furrowed, but he did not respond. "Or is it as I feared, and you don't know much at all?"

He actually had the decency to look chagrinned. "I can't claim to know a great deal." We trod along the corridor together, light filtering through the many holes in the ceiling. The condition of the structure was so poor that I had to wonder how it remained standing as it did. "I have little more than theories: dark magic, ancient devices, astronomical events. Truth be told, whatever Jane Foster happened upon may well provide us with an answer."

Side by side, the two of us advanced down the hall, cautious in our steps. Every so often, he would pause and observe the air, as if he were sensing magic. For all I knew, there might have been exorbitant amounts of magic in the atmosphere, but I could no longer perceive it as I once had, the link to my own magic severed from strain the day Loki destroyed the Tesseract.

As we approached the farthest door on the lefthand side, he gazed within and came to a full stop. "Well, I think perhaps it won't be so difficult to find a clue after all."

I sidled up behind, peeking around his shoulder to see into the room. At first glance, the room was like any other on this floor: large enough to fit a handful of desks, though little more than that. What was most remarkable about this one was the distinct lack of gravity.

Lingering in the doorway, we observed the peculiarity before deciding that, while unusual, it would bring us no harm. Once we entered the room, it became clear that everything was absent gravity save for us, the sight of which brought a smile to my face. I could not withhold my delight as I crossed the room, my hands brushing against the dry leaves drifting about. Most of them travelled towards the ceiling, as if they were falling backwards. I grasped one such leaf, holding it delicately between my forefinger and thumb. The moment I let go, it continued its journey upwards.

"I have never seen anything like this," I murmured.

Loki circled around me and crushed a leaf in the palm of his hand. When he let the pieces free, they fell up instead of down. "Neither have I."

"Is that so?" Letting my hands drop to my sides, I turned on my heel to face him. "I was under the impression that you've seen all sorts of indescribable things in the Cosmos. You've never once crossed paths with something like this?"

His expression darkened, as it often did in the shadow of his time spent in exile after he fell from the Bifrost. I felt compelled to speak on it further—we'd never truly spoken of it, after all—but this was neither the time nor the place. "You would do well to exercise a bit of caution," he remarked, pacing towards the opposite side of the room. "There's no knowing what you might stumble into as you are so often afflicted by misfortune."

I arched a brow. "The only reason I am so often afflicted by misfortune is because of you."

Just the same, I pursed my lips and looked around. He was right to be wary. In all likelihood, harm came to Jane Foster when she stumbled upon something that was not visibly amiss. Well aware that I could neither see nor sense hazardous magics, I turned with the intention of exiting the room.

As I made my way towards the door, a breeze tugged on my cloak, making the hem flutter about my legs. I peered down and around, brow cinching. The wind was coming from nowhere. Nowhere here, at the least. Hand on my scabbard, I rotated about to warn Loki.

But, the moment I faced him, everything surrounding me changed.

The sudden rush of cold air almost had me crying out in shock. A rough gale picked up in an instant, yanking at my cloak and biting at my skin. I ventured an attempt to look behind, but the very shift of my feet loosened the gravel beneath me. Before I could even scramble to regain my footing, a pair of arms encircled my waist and dragged me down atop a firm torso. Together, we hit the ground, putting an end to the tumble I'd almost fallen victim to.

Loki's cool breath caressed my ear as his arms tightened around me. "This is precisely what I feared would happen."

The lightness in his voice made me smile. "For what it's worth, I was trying to leave the room," I told him, squirming just to his left so that my shield was no longer digging into my back. "Thank the Norns I didn't slip off the edge of a cliff."

Fingers curling around my waist, he slid me aside, shifting my weight from his chest to the ground. Once he was assured that neither of us would go plunging down the hill, he propped himself up on his elbows to observe our surroundings. I did the same, clutching onto handfuls of gravel as if it would somehow anchor me to the hill we rested upon. I blinked once or twice, my eyes struggling to adjust to the strange, muted light of the realm we'd found ourselves in.

All that lay before us amounted to little more than a barren wasteland. In the gloom, my eyes discerned only shadows and charcoal-grey dirt. Beyond that, I could make out the bare outline of a mountain range that proved more familiar than expected. I did not have to venture a guess as to where we were. Even after all this time, I had no difficulty recognizing it.

"Svartalfheim," I breathed. "Never did I think we'd step foot on this world again."

Loki crouched beside me, scanning the area around us. We were atop a mound of rocks and dust; every hill and slope in the distance looked much the same. Below, there was an arid stretch of land that looked as though it had gone untouched for many a year. The kind of desecrated land that could no longer sustain life. These lifeless lands must have made the Celestial Woods and its surrounding fields all the more valuable and the Dark Elves fighting over it all the more hostile.

"The Dark Elves thought it such a fine idea to scorch their world," he said, climbing to his feet. When the hillside did not give way beneath him, he proffered a hand to me. I rose with his aid, though once I stood, he did not release my hand. "Those who remain live such a pathetic existence." He didn't need to voice it, but I knew he was referring to one faction in particular that existed in the wake of the Dark War: Nalak and his clan. I always believed he resented and pitied the Dark Elf clan leaders. Perhaps it was because they were not so unalike as he wished.

"It's a wonder the Celestial Woods survived the Dark War." I nodded in the direction of the mountain range where the forest sat snuggled against its base on the other side. "We would not have our dreamfoil if they'd succeeded in destroying everything millennia ago."

"They very nearly did." Loki gestured to the bottom of the hill where there sat a dark vessel half-submerged in the ground. A sharp spire-like appendage jutted from the top of the main structure, mostly intact. In fact, the majority of the craft appeared unscathed. The sight garnered the furrow of Loki's brow. "This ship looks less damaged than it should."

With a mere glance at me, he started down the slope. I kept pace as best I could, shuffling down the sliding gravel. Upon observing the shipwreck a little closer, I quickly understood what he meant. From what I knew of the Dark War, the Dark Elves sacrificed their ships to decimate the forces of Asgard when the tides of war ebbed out of their favour. Most of them rammed into the ground, self-destructed, and exploded into countless pieces. But this ship... this ship looked as though it crash- _landed_.

We reached the base of the hill in little time and dared to cross the unbroken terrain. The gale blustered around us, dragging me back by my cape. Gritting my teeth, I unclipped my shield from my back and braced it before me to protect my eyes from the whirlwind of dust. Loki remained ahead of me, steadfast despite the strength of the wind.

Unable to see past my shield and through the squall, I did not notice we'd reached our destination until Loki took hold of my arm and drew me close. We stood, pressed against the downed vessel, the black expanse at our backs. So near it now, I realized that it was much larger than I'd thought. The sloping spire stood numerous yards above, tall enough for me to have to tilt my head back to view the entirety of it. I could only hazard a guess as to how deep into the ground the rest of the ship went.

The piercing howl of the wind forced us to huddle close, our hips touching, his hand braced against the black metal hull of the ship. "Do you see any way inside?" I asked, all but shouting over the rising windstorm.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as he laid his hand upon my hip, turning me to face the ship. With his opposite hand, he rapped his knuckles on the metal, bringing my attention to the bare outline of a door just barely obscured in the facade of the airship. I quirked a brow at him in return and drew closer to observe the side of the vessel. The door was smooth and practically one with the hull. The only indication that it was a door at all was the thin line marking its rectangular shape.

"It was not meant to be opened from the outside." Loki took a small step back, causing me to shiver in the absence of his touch. "However, assuming there were survivors in this wreckage, they would have exited from here."

"And they would have left the door unlocked." Stretching up on my toes, I ran my fingers along the edges. The space was too thin for me to find any sort of hold, thus I withdrew a dagger from my boot and wedged it in the lip of the door. I caught a glimpse of Loki's smile as I pried the door open, the dark metal swinging wide and slamming against the body of the ship. "What? Do I impress you?"

"Impress me?" He laid his palm to my cheek, his fingers sinking into my mussed hair. "With all I've seen, it'll take more than that to impress me."

Upturning my eyes, I bit back a laugh when he graced my brow with a kiss. In the blink of an eye, he was clambering into the entryway, the gloom drenching him in shadows. The opening stood several feet from the ground, but, with Loki's long legs, the height proved no obstacle to him. Once he found steady footing, he dropped to one knee and reached down to offer me assistance. Though I wanted to tell him that I did not need his aid, I accepted his hand, and my ascent occurred absent difficulty.

Even as I stood within the ship, the inside was still far too dark to see through. Loki sauntered a short ways ahead, igniting a sphere of greenish-blue light in the palm of his hand. I had expected to see the walls of the corridor or chamber we'd entered. What we saw instead was a landing of sorts, one that ran the length of the ship to our left and right.

I blinked at the sight, inching forwards to stand at Loki's side. Everything inside was tilted, the floor sloping a touch to our left—a product of the ship crashing to the ground at an angle. Ahead of us, there was a great wide chasm, dark and endless as the abyss. Together, we made a tentative approach. I crouched near the edge, peering over the brink of the landing. Loki let his light shine brighter, bathing some of the landings below in a faint luminescence. But the chasm was so wide and so deep that we could not see the very bottom if we tried.

"Just as I thought. This is one of their voyaging ships, for travelling into deep space." Loki knelt beside me, moving the light in his hand in the direction of the landing across from ours. I could discern the contours of a mechanism, one large enough to house a humanoid of our size. "They would place themselves in stasis to weather long journeys."

"But they're all empty now, and I see no bodily remains." Leaning back, I scanned the empty stasis cells on either side of us. "Someone must have survived the crash."

He gave a nod and rose to his full height. "In all likelihood, they would have integrated with the surviving clans."

In the time of the Dark War, King Bor sought to eradicate the enemy, leaving few meagre clans to survive in whatever was left of their world. Subsequent to our multiple altercations with them, I was beginning to wonder if there were any left. _The Asgardians have driven them to extinction_ , I thought. _And I have done nothing but contribute to that_. The notion made my stomach churn.

I swallowed dryly and glanced his way. "Do you think... do you think Nalak might have been among those who fought in the Dark War?" His head tilted as I voiced the question. "Perhaps he had more otherworldly knowledge than most of the other clan leaders who yet live. It could be why he and his clan appealed more to the Mad Titan."

"Possibly. Though it matters little now that they are both dead."

I wished I could've laughed at his flippant dismissal of our past enemies, but my amusement never overcame that deep-seated dread. My apprehension and fear of Thanos still remained too near, regardless of how many months it had been. Tongue darting out to wet my lips, I too stood. "I am curious to see more of this ship."

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine. Then a small smile graced his features, and he said, "As am I."

Contending with the incline of the ship, we edged away from the rim of the ship's chasm, wary of its lack of railing. To our fortune, the length of the ship was not as daunting as the height of it. Passing stasis cell after stasis cell, we found a stairwell just a dozen yards from the entryway. It circled up and up, reaching three levels above. With Loki lighting the way, the two of us ascended the ship.

At the summit, we came to a small chamber, one that still had a view of the dark chasm below. Through the shadows, I saw that this uppermost chamber contained only two stasis cells. When we took a single step over the threshold, a low hum sounded somewhere beneath our feet. We came to a standstill, glancing around us as best we could in the dark. After several long seconds, a number of meagre lights to our left flickered to life. All were faint, marking the walls with red lines and runic words I did not understand.

"I'm surprised any of this still works," I remarked, pacing further into the gloom.

Loki diverged to the left, towards a circular opening that led to what appeared to be a star map. "Despite their complete and utter failure, the Dark Elves did know a fair bit about technology," he said, his tone a touch begrudging. "At the least, the main systems have endured, even if the rest of the ship has not fared as well."

I wandered closer to the walls, inclining my head to observe the odd runes, glowing red in the dark metal. They were nothing I'd ever seen before: an antiquated Dark Elf language from before the birth of the universe. It was a language that had long since died out, along with much of their culture. And their race.

"It seems one of my theories is proven correct."

Straightening, I saw Loki standing in front of the star map. Two-dimensional renderings of various worlds—the Nine Realms—lit up the wall beyond the circular archway. I crossed the metal floor, now awash with the light of red runes, and passed through the opening. At the railing, I stood close to Loki, observing the map. The entire wall, from the ceiling to deep down into the very depths of the ship, was alight in a blue depiction of the Cosmos.

Loki gazed upon me, his eyes shining bright blue in the lighting. "What do you see?"

Putting aside the obvious answer, I gave the map a second look. After a moment, I could distinguish the direction in which all of the realms were moving. Every single one of them was about to align with the others. "Oh, Norns... the Convergence."

I recalled only a little about the Convergence from what my tutors taught me in my youth. The Nine Realms last saw the Convergence at the end of the Dark War, when all the worlds aligned, the veils between them becoming, in essence, non-existent. "We should have known."

"Well, you and I are not particularly in the habit of keeping track of events that occur every five thousand years," Loki noted, his fingers coming to rest on the small of my back as he edged closer to the railing. "As I guessed, this is the cause of the irregularities transpiring in the Nine Realms—the tears, the changes in gravity. Whatever Jane Foster encountered stemmed from this."

Frowning, I watched as the Nine Realms grew nearer to the Convergence with every passing second. "So... you believe she stumbled upon an ancient and powerful magic because of the tears opened by the Convergence. What is it that you think she found?"

His answer was simple for something so complex: "The Aether."

A terrible chill travelled from the roots of my hair down to my very toes. _The Aether_. One of the Infinity Stones. It was the source of power with which the leader of the ancient Dark Elves, Malekith, once attempted to blanket all the Nine Realms in eternal darkness. Could it have been coincidence that we had been dragged from the forsaken building on Midgard and tossed into Svartalfheim? What of Jane Foster? Was her discovery a mere coincidence as well?

Shoulders dropping, I met Loki's gaze in the dim lighting. "If that is true, then we best return to Asgard. They may require our help. Either that, or we need to be sent back to Nidavellir."

His brow arched at that. "I don't think protecting the already well-hidden dwarves is going to be a priority for Odin."

I gave a short, dry laugh. "At any rate, I would first repay Midgard a visit to inform the humans of what we have discovered."

With a huff, he turned and began the trek back to the door through which we entered. "I suspected you would say that."

"You would have them clamouring and fearing the worst?"

He looked back at me, eyes gleaming. "Aren't you curious to see what they would do?"

By that point, I cast him a baleful look.

Once we descended the stairs and crossed the length of the ship, we exited through the hatch. Despite the time we spent inside, the awful subdued light of the sun had not changed. Through the gusts of wind and the churning clouds above, I thought I saw the sun eclipsed by a moon, but it was too difficult to observe as the rising winds picked up dust and soot all around us. Either way, it soon passed from view—as did everything else on Svartalfheim—once Loki and I ranged the hills and ventured back through the tear between worlds.

In the blink of an eye, we arrived back in the abandoned structure on Midgard. But we were not in the room we had disappeared from. Confusion clouded my mind before I recognized the much larger chamber housing the levitating vehicle. Half a dozen SHIELD agents froze at our sudden appearance, some with eyes wide and mouths agape.

I managed to voice a hasty apology before following after Loki, who was rather keen on vacating the premises with long strides.

The daylight of Midgard assaulted my eyes, forcing me to use my shield to provide shade. As before, we found Darcy sitting beneath her designated canopy, another steaming cup of coffee clasped close. Agent Maria Hill lingered nearby, arms crossed and looking as though she had infinitely more important tasks to complete elsewhere.

When they spotted us, Darcy hopped off her chair, eagerness in her gaze. Agent Hill seemed far less enthused. "What did you find in there?" she asked.

"There are more fissures in your world, deeper in the building," Loki told her.

"I would not recommend venturing inside again," I said, preempting any perilous suggestions Loki might have thought to make.

Darcy chewed on her lower lip and drew closer to me. "Do you know what happened to Jane?"

Before I could answer, Loki deigned to preempt me. "We know not what transpired. As of now, I can offer no ideas as to why Thor felt compelled to take her back to Asgard." My brow dipped at the apparent lie, but I could not interject. "As for the open paths, there is little you can do other than wait for them to pass."

Although I thought it courteous to share what we knew with the humans, it was clear that Loki did not. Perhaps he did not have the patience to explain all they did not know or could not understand about the Nine Realms. And I was willing to agree just this once. I could not deny that returning to Asgard was an urgent matter that brooked no wasted time. Clarifications would be given later, or so I hoped.

"Loki and I will travel to Asgard to discover what ails Jane." I offered Darcy the most reassuring smile that I could conjure. "We shall return with tidings as soon as we can. For now, I would not have you worry."

Darcy relaxed a touch. "Just... don't go disappearing on us for a year again. That would be a pretty crappy way to find out Jane's not coming back 'cause Asgard is way more awesome and she's married into royalty or something."

I lifted a brow, sincerely doubting that such a thing would ever occur. But that was another discussion for another time. "I won't let that happen, I promise."

"We best depart now." Though the impatience in Loki's voice was palpable, it did not keep him from supplying Agent Hill with one final quip. "Oh, and tread carefully these next several days."

Agent Hill's eyes narrowed at his warning, and her subsequent frown made plain that she was not satisfied by our answers. Nevertheless, she did not attempt to stall us. For my part, any thought of providing answers was deterred by Loki's hurried steps. Withholding a sigh, I quickened my pace to match his stride until we reached the Bifrost rune just yards away. Darcy and Agent Hill remained where they were, watching—Darcy with avid interest, Agent Hill with wariness.

Peering upwards, into the clouds, I took a calming breath. "Heimdall, if you would be so kind."

The air began to stir, drawing us in, pulling us upwards. In mere seconds, a light descended from the clouds, engulfing us entirely. I felt the gentle tug before being towed away from Midgard. All became a blur as we went soaring through the endless dark, past stars and planets and clouds of dust.

After several long months, we were returning to Asgard at last.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of the story is a reference to the song _Kingdom Come_ by the Civil Wars.


	2. The Deepening Dark

**Author's Note:** Hello all! Thank you so much for the warm welcome back.

And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's really great hearing from you again after all this time.

If you have a moment, please feel free to leave a review once you've finished reading the chapter!

* * *

 **TWO**

* * *

 _the deepening dark_

* * *

In a tempest of wind and light, Loki and I landed in Asgard with several stumbling steps. As was always expected, Heimdall, keeper of the gate, stood atop the pedestal, presiding over the gateway through which we had emerged. What I did not expect to see was the bevy of begrimed beings scattered throughout the Bifrost observatory. Those who were clearly not of Asgard were secured with chains, being escorted from the golden chamber by a company of Einherjar.

Most of the Asgardians glanced our way, unsettled by our sudden appearance. Despite their disquiet, they did not disturb us, instead continuing their way through the Bifrost with Asgard's newest prisoners. The mix of convicts was interesting to observe. Many were tall, some sported horns, and one among them was a hulking behemoth whose sharp blue eyes passed over us, heedful and full of disdain.

I had every intention of approaching Heimdall, but a cheery, booming voice intervened.

"Eirlys, what a delight it is to see you!"

We turned to see Volstagg lumbering towards us with Fandral shortly behind him. Although Loki tensed, looking none too happy to be greeted by them, I put forth an easy smile. "My dear friends, it has been much too long."

Volstagg swept forward and scooped me into a hearty hug—one not so bone-crushing; he seemed to have learned some form of restraint. "Much has happened in the many months since we last saw you," he remarked. "The Nine Realms have become a fine mess indeed without Asgardian intervention."

He stiffened once he said it, casting Loki an uncomfortable look, as though he were solely responsible for the turmoil that had been unleashed upon the other realms. When I met Loki's gaze, his expression darkened. While there was no denying Loki played a part in the Bifrost's destruction, I could not hold him to his faults when he'd done so much to mend his wrongs.

After a breath, Volstagg showed a surprising amount of tact by not allowing the moment of unease to linger. "Hildegund has been asking after you of late." This time, when he looked between Loki and me, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "She's been wondering when you'll be getting married."

My ears burned as I exchanged another look with Loki. It was a conversation we hadn't yet had—among a range of other conversations we really should have had. At the least, he did not appear perturbed by the question. Neither did he seem interested in providing an answer.

"Married again?" Fandral said, feigning a wistful sigh. "I have once more squandered my chances of courting you."

Loki all but sneered at him. "You never did have a chance."

I lifted a brow, a touch surprised by his tone. "Could we perhaps conclude this conversation?"

Fandral let loose a bark of laughter. "My apologies, good Lady Eirlys. Though, admittedly, he does have a point," he conceded, nodding to me. "You've only ever had eyes for him."

Somehow, my ears burned hotter. "I would speak with Heimdall."

With a pat on Volstagg's shoulder, I sidled around him to advance towards the pedestal. Peering up at Heimdall from the bottom steps, I gave the slight bow of my head. He responded in kind. "The day has been trying, Lady Eirlys," he said, amber eyes crinkling. "It is nice to see your safe return."

I smiled. "You swift response to our call is much appreciated."

Loki came to stand beside me, muscles tense in spite of his impassive expression.

Though Heimdall frowned beneath his great golden helm, his tone maintained an ungrudging civility. "Of course. With the Convergence upon us, your aid may be needed in the coming days," he told us. "The queen has been informed of your arrival. She will meet you by the grand entrance to apprise you of what has happened to Jane Foster."

"Then we best continue without further delay," I replied. "You have our thanks."

He gave a single, deep nod, and we strode from the Bifrost observatory.

We found Fandral and Volstagg tarrying just outside the observatory, standing alongside a pair of horses. The rest of the Einherjar were piling prisoners into several caravans further down the Rainbow Bridge. I gave the crowd a once over, my brow furrowing. "Where is Hogun?" I gestured between Fandral and Volstagg. "The Warriors Three are not often without their third."

"He has opted to stay behind on Vanaheim," Fandral replied. "His village was among those struck by raiders. It was thought he deserved to find a moment of rest amidst his kin. With all the mayhem and marauders pillaging across the Nine Realms, it's a wonder that we found any end to it at all." He gave Loki a rather pointed look. "You've really gone and mucked things up."

Loki clenched his jaw. "Oh, and I suppose you've suffered such a great deal these past several years."

When he took a single, challenging step towards Fandral, I laid my hand on his chest to hinder him. "Please, Loki, let's not start anything," I murmured just loud enough for him to hear. "We have had a very trying day. There's no need to make it worse."

Gaze seeking mine, Volstagg was quick to step in. "Here, take our steeds. We must help transport these prisoners, at any rate. We can ride on the back of the caravan with little trouble."

Fandral could not refrain from making another quip. "That is if the wheels do not burst off their spokes beneath your weight, my friend."

I suppressed a smile. "That would be very kind of you, Volstagg."

"My horse is a fine steed." Fandral gestured to his chestnut gelding. "But Volstagg's horse can presumably carry two people much better—the equivalent of one Volstagg."

Without a word, Loki stepped forward and grasped the reins of Volstagg's significantly larger horse. "We'll take the one," he said, mounting with ease. "No sense in increasing the risk of crippling the caravan with the weight of you both."

Glancing my way, Fandral released a soft snort. "I see that tongue of his has not lost its edge."

Volstagg, on the other hand, glowered at Loki in response; perhaps he had simply grown weary of the japes made at his expense.

Steering the steed about, Loki came to a stop before me and lowered his hand. I unequipped my shield, hooking it to the strap on my back, and promptly climbed up behind him. With a smile, I gave a final nod of gratitude to the two warriors. "We shall see one another in due course," I said. "And tell Hildegund I hope to take a drink with her soon."

The instant I had my arms tucked around Loki's waist, we were flying down the Rainbow Bridge, the wind whistling in our ears.

Fingers curled in his overcoat, I clutched Loki close. With every trot, my knees grazed his thighs, my cloak fluttering in our wake. Against my body, I could feel the tautness of his muscles. Questions of what had him so ill at ease flitted through my mind. Did the impending Convergence and his suspicions regarding the Aether trouble him? Or was it his encounter with Fandral and Volstagg that bothered him so?

I could not doubt my friends' discomfort in his presence. The hostility. Worst of all: I did not think I could blame them. The citizens of Asgard were well aware of the good he did and all that he had suffered at the hands of Thanos. But, much more keenly still, the memory of his trespasses—with the Jotuns, with Amora, with the Mad Titan—sat at the forefront of many a mind. Whatever good he might have done did not annul the bad.

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes to the train of thought I did not like to follow. "Are you all right, Loki?"

"I'm fine."

The reply was terse and not convincing in the slightest. Even so, it was not just the manner of his speech that gave away his lie. It occurred to me how witless the question sounded. _Are you al_ _l_ _right?_ Of course he wasn't. He hadn't been all right in months, no—years. Returning to Asgard with such a welcome must've reminded him of that.

It entered my mind to speak on it further, but before I could voice a single enquiry, he called to me, "You may want to hold on."

If at all possible, I drew myself closer, my chest to his back. In a heartbeat, we were off at a gallop, the wind blustering on either side, whipping the tail end of my cloak about. With a heavy sigh, I laid my cheek on his shoulder blade. Despite the concerns that continued to plague us, I felt a strange sense of calm in that moment. Loki relaxed under my touch, one of his hands coming to rest atop my own, his fingers twining with mine as we travelled down the Rainbow Bridge unhindered.

We reached the palace in minutes, its golden facade glinting in the sunlight. At the grand entrance, Loki tugged on the reins, veering us to the left. It was then that I saw Queen Frigga standing near the great, towering doors that led into the palace. She made her way towards us, a pair of handmaidens dressed in fine blue linen trailing behind her. Eyes darting from me to Loki, she positively beamed.

I dismounted first, my hand latching onto the crook of Loki's arm as I went. He climbed down just the same, albeit with a far more fluid movement.

"Your timing is most fortuitous," Frigga said. "Though both look as though you have seen much better days."

Blinking, I glanced over at Loki to see that his hair was dishevelled, a smudge of dirt marring his pale cheekbone. There was a tiredness about him, one that was all too easy to perceive with a single look. I supposed that I had become so accustomed to Loki's bedraggled appearance that I no longer noticed. I highly suspected I sported a similar look.

Queen Frigga strode forth to meet me, cupping my face between her hands. "I have not seen you in three months, it seems."

When she drew me into a hug, I returned it happily. "It feels longer at times."

Stepping back, she nodded. "Indeed. Odin has told me that you have been serving the Nine Realms well."

Over her shoulder, I could see Loki narrowing his eyes at the comment about Odin. Nevertheless, his response to the remark vanished once Frigga turned and brought him into an embrace. He froze for a moment, oddly stiff in her hold. But then he slackened, his arms folding around her. Although he said not a word, I hoped seeing his mother brought him some semblance of comfort.

Upon parting, Frigga gave us both a once over. "My handmaidens can bring your belongings to your chambers."

I dropped a hand to my scabbard and loosed a breath of laughter. "I fear our possessions were lost on Nidavellir when we were attacked by Chitauri."

Her expression turned grim. "Yes, Heimdall informed me of their unexpected arrival on Nidavellir. He suspects that they used a tear between worlds to travel there."

"The Convergence," Loki said.

She affirmed his assumption with a single nod. "We have yet to determine their agenda on Nidavellir." Loki and I shared an uneasy look, one that ended when she placed a hand on my arm. "But we shall concern ourselves with them later. For now, I believe you wanted to see Jane Foster? There is much you should know."

After dismissing her handmaidens with a kind word, the queen led us not into the palace but into the city. We trod the cobblestone roads where Asgardian denizens meandered, conversing and socializing. There was peace among them, a peace that the other realms would hopefully see soon. Despite the tranquility in which Asgard was immersed, some among the citizens glowered at Loki as we passed them by. It seemed that I was right to assume Fandral and Volstagg's unease in Loki's presence was a sentiment the rest of Asgard shared. The events of the past were not quite forgiven.

Together, the three of us walked down the boulevard that bordered the water. From a distance, we could see the Rainbow Bridge shimmering amidst the golden city. In the time we spent venturing into the city, Frigga enquired about our time venturing the Nine Realms, as though we'd gone on little more than a relaxing sojourn. Did we enjoy our journey across the realms? Did we find any interesting keepsakes along the way?

Perhaps it wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. In truth, we had seen great beauty. Felt a great calm, short lived as it may have been. In the far northern reaches of Alfheim, we'd born witness to magnificent auroras, and they'd seen us through sleepless nights.

As I told her of the wonders we'd beheld, her smile became shadowed with melancholy, the cheer in her eyes dimming. My heart dipped at the change in her expression. The sense that something was amiss swept over me. Something that she could not put into words. _A vision?_ I pondered. _She would only divulge what she has foreseen if she thought it would help—if it could make an actual difference_. Uncertain of how to broach the subject during so light a conversation, I maintained my silence and hoped to speak on it later.

From the boulevard, we turned onto an avenue lined with stone buildings, banners and awnings of Asgardian red fluttering over their doors. "I am glad that you have returned to us, unintentional as it may have been," Frigga said. "As the Convergence approaches, the borders between worlds become blurred. We have come to understand that Jane Foster wandered through one such tear in the Nine Realms." Worry lines etched her brow, and her footsteps slowed. "She found something. Heimdall could not see where she had gone for a time, but now... she has the Aether flowing through her veins."

Brow cinching, I shared a look with Loki and said, "It seems you were right."

He did not smile at the fact. "What do you know about the Aether?"

Frigga withdrew a small notebook from the folds of her shawl. "This is a compilation of everything I've collected from the knowledge we hold in the library. Unfortunately, there is no information on how one extracts the Aether from a host." One hand clutching the cloth around her shoulders, she handed the small leather-bound notebook to Loki. "You best read it—thoroughly, as I know you do. All would benefit from you being well learned in the coming days."

Head bowed, he pried open the notebook and filtered through the pages. "This is everything? There are barely ten pages worth of notations."

"Yes." Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. "We can only hope that we shall learn more soon... before it is too late."

Upon reaching a balustrade overlooking the water, Frigga brought us to a standstill. "Take a rest and read what I have written." Her attention shifted from Loki to me. "In the meantime, I would have Eirlys accompany me to retrieve a number of crucial supplies."

After a moment's pause, Loki frowned down at the notebook in his hands. "Very well." He sidled into the shade of a tree, where he leaned back against the balustrade. "Don't take too long, lest I grow weary of waiting."

Frigga and I exchanged smiles. "We best hurry along before Loki makes a fuss," she quipped to me. "You've always had a keen eye for the best herbs and ingredients."

When she started down the road, I hastened after her. "What sort of potion are you brewing?"

"One that I hope will slow the damage done to Jane Foster," she replied. "It requires several rare herbs, which we should be able to find in the emporium."

Just south of the common market, the emporium was a small quarter of the city known for its rare stocks and exorbitant prices. Of course, such costs were of little concern to the Queen of Asgard. We climbed a series of winding stone steps that led into the emporium. The shops here even looked finer than those in other quarters: the columns were more ornate, the steps were edged with fine marble mosaics, and beautifully arranged displays sat in the windows.

Every so often, an Asgardian would pause and bow to Queen Frigga, and she would respond with the slight dip of her head. In spite of having to pause each time, she managed to maintain our conversation. "How have you fared, Eirlys?" she asked. "I see you once every few months, but I have not have much opportunity to gauge how well you have adjusted to your life as it is now."

The question was more heartfelt than her prior enquiries about our adventures throughout the Nine Realms. And yet all I could say in response was, "I have fared well enough." It was the truth, though it crossed my mind that circumstances felt... strange. After spending seventy years living on Alfheim, wandering the Nine Realms with Loki in the wake of our battle with Thanos was odd. Odd, but not undesired.

Frigga lowered her eyes. "And what of your magic?"

My throat tightened at the very reminder of it. "I have not yet seen success in restoring it."

The corner of her mouth turned upwards. "But you still retain hope."

"It's all I have."

"That isn't true. You have the will and determination to see yourself through whatever challenges the Cosmos bestows upon you." She graced me with an encouraging smile. "All you need is time."

I could not keep from smiling in return, despite my doubts.

Side by side, we strolled through the emporium, scanning the wares of shops through their storefronts. Roving from shop to shop, we soon came to the high-grade herb merchant. Though the walls bore nothing but shelves, they were sparse with potted plants and preserved herbs. Each was notorious for being difficult to grow or procure. Standing amidst these herbs reminded me of the dreamfoil; I was glad to know that it did not have to count among the uneasily procured, for it continued to prosper in the herb gardens of the palace.

Queen Frigga was quick to spot a bright orange-red flower that much resembled the sunburst sigil of the Vanir—a heartblossom. Because of its resemblance to our sigil, many Vanir coveted the flower for its beauty. For healers, the heartblossom's beauty lay in its nectar's ability to slow the spread of poisons.

Once Frigga inspected the condition of the flower, she lifted it with great care and allowed me to carry it. We moved on to find the next among her list: netherbloom, a cone-shaped pink flora that grew in the deepest, darkest places in the Nine Realms. It was infamously difficult to maintain once removed from its initial environment.

"I have been meaning to ask something," Frigga said as we crossed the room. At our passing, the shopkeeper offered her aid to which Frigga politely declined. "Loki... how is he? As we both know, he does not often—if ever—speak of himself or his concerns. At times, I fear that he does not heal, even in the distant wake of such chaos and madness."

I averted my eyes, focussing on a small pot of goldclover. "He... he is fine, my lady."

With her hands around the small, sealed box containing the netherbloom, she gave me a look so plainly skeptical that I almost flushed with embarrassment. "How is he really?"

A lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow. "I worry after him." When we stopped at the far end of the shop, away from prying ears, I heaved a sigh. "I feel as though there is so much that is left unsaid." I thought of all the things we never spoke about: the time we'd spent apart; his nightmares; my secret fear that his desire for power—for the throne—had not been forfeit. The latter concern was not a subject of conversation one could tactfully approach.

Frigga frowned. "How so?"

I chewed on my bottom lip before replying. "He does not share his troubles, and that... worries me a great deal." There was a time when he kept everything to himself, and it led him down a path I prayed he would not walk again. "After everything that has happened, I imagine he keeps his burdens buried deeper than ever before."

"And you fear it will some day burst like a dam."

Glancing sideways, I tried not to smile at her intuition. "That may be a touch more... dramatic than I would have expressed it, but, in essence, yes."

She paused for a moment, balancing the box of netherbloom between her hands. "Eirlys, it is not your responsibility to cure his every ailment," she told me, her tone soft yet heartening. "Be there for him in his times of need. That is all you can do for one so injured as he." Reaching out, she laid a hand on my upper arm. "Loki has always been reserved about his true feelings. In time, he may be more amenable to the idea of sharing his sentiments. And there is no one in the Nine Realms he would entrust them to more than you."

The weight on my shoulders seemed to shift. It did not lift, per say, but I did not buckle under them as I did before. "Thank you, my lady," I said, putting forth the best smile I could conjure. "I am grateful for your counsel."

Our task concluded when we obtained the last of the rare herbs: a blue and purple bloom housed in an enchanted crystal orb that maintained the cold temperatures in which it thrived—frost lotus, native to the snowy mountains of Nidavellir. I carried the last of our quarry, the orb cold to the touch. After bringing them to the shopkeeper, Queen Frigga asked that the herbs be delivered to the house of healing where she would receive her payment.

As soon as all the details were agreed upon, we exited the shop and headed back to the main boulevard.

In the shadows of a tree, Loki leaned against the balustrade, book balanced delicately in his long fingers. Upon seeing him, I felt a strange sense of relief. And the reason for that relief made me shudder. Some part of me feared he would leave me behind, feared he would grasp for power—especially with the Aether so near. _Will it always linger there, in the back of my mind?_

Shutting the notebook with one hand, Loki straightened and sought his mother's gaze. "It appears most of what you recorded amounts to little more than speculation."

"Yes, to the misfortunes of all, our people have had fleeting contact with the Aether," Frigga replied. "Bor and his warriors documented their experiences with the stone, but none have had the privilege of studying it."

Loki hummed in displeasure. "Of course not. It is so like the Aesir to swipe aside everything of value without a second thought."

"Do not pretend you are so unalike them." Frigga raised a brow. "It is left to us to do what they did not."

In the noonday sun, we continued on our away while Loki spoke on what Frigga documented in the notebook. As Loki had said, there was not much to be told. The Aether was fluid, unlike the other Infinity Stones we'd encountered. It seemed to feed off its host, draining the life force over time, which only meant that—considering Jane was mortal—our time was ever more limited. There were several other metaphysical facts that I could not understand, but they were of little import to me. My concern lay with Jane's life being at the mercy of the Aether.

We took a right into a lane where the market just began. The smell of spices filled the air, along with the laughter of children. They ran about, chasing a toy boat that soared along the cobblestone path. If they ever noticed they were in the presence of royalty, they did not show it, for they dashed past the queen, very nearly crashing into her.

Instead of following the market road, we turned away to venture beneath an archway that led down a set of stairs. At the bottom of those stairs, we found Jane and Thor at last.

They stood by the balustrade, hands entwined, faces mere inches apart, Thor's voice drifting up to meet us. "My father doesn't know everything."

Beside me, Frigga chortled. "Don't let him hear you say that."

They both turned to face us, smiling, skin flushed. Even upon Frigga's approach, Thor did not let go of Jane's hands. "Jane Foster, please meet Frigga, Queen of Asgard, and... my mother."

Jane glanced at him in surprise and tugged her hands out of his hold. Putting a respectable distance between themselves, she gave a short, awkward bow of her head. "Hi."

Though Loki and I lingered some ways behind Frigga, we did not escape their notice. At the sight of us, Thor's grin grew wider. "Eirlys, my friend! It is wonderful to see you again," he said, coming forward to brace his hands on my shoulders.

I patted his arm. "I am glad to see you well, Jane especially." I smiled and nodded to her, to which she responded in kind. Thus far, she did not appear ill, but that was no indication of what may have been occurring out of sight.

Thor let me go and turned towards Loki. A long moment passed before Thor reached out to clasp Loki's arm in a show of camaraderie. "Thank you for coming, Brother."

"The Aether has not been seen in five thousand years," Loki replied, dismissively. "Did you think I would let something such as this go ignored?"

Eyes glinting, Thor met my gaze and shook his head.

Once all our greetings were given, Frigga drew herself up and clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "As the Convergence grows nearer to its peak, I cannot help but fear the dangers the Aether may draw."

"But no one else would know that the Aether has been uncovered," I said, brow furrowing. "The Dark Elves are the only ones who would be drawn to it, and they are not likely to mount an offensive. Not without Nalak, and certainly not without any means to reach Asgard."

The ghost of a smirk alighted on Loki's features. "Did you sustain a head injury when they last assaulted the palace? Because you seem to have forgotten that."

"But that was with the aid of the Mad Titan," I rejoined with a sharp glare. "There aren't many who hold that kind of power—and even fewer would feel inclined to assist the Dark Elves."

As soon as the words passed through my lips, the blare of an alarm sounded, the deep thrum echoing throughout the city.

All amongst our company looked out over the balustrade and in the direction of the palace. Such an alarm could only come from one place. "The prisons," Frigga stated.

A stab of fear struck my heart. _Trouble in the dungeons so soon after the Aether's arrival?_ I thought. _That cannot be a coincidence._

"The marauders," Thor growled. "Fandral and Volstagg have only just returned with them." He looked back at Jane, brow furrowed.

"Go," Frigga insisted. "We will look after her."

With a nod, Thor ran up the nearest steps, shedding his cloak, and leapt over the balustrade. In midair, Mjolnir flew into his waiting hand before he made his way to the palace, a mere flutter of red and silver.

Frigga turned to Jane. "We best return to the palace. Even if we are drawing nearer to the danger, it will still be safest there should greater trouble arise." When she glanced at Loki and me, we gave a wordless assent.

Most Asgardians did not hesitate to find shelter, shutting every door and window. A number of others watched us pass by with wide eyes. Even if they did not know the cause of such distress, they knew to respect the warning. Those who trod the roads scurried out of our path, allowing us a quick passage. In our haste, we did not speak, but I did attempt to capture Loki's gaze. He cast me a short glimpse and little else. Nevertheless, it was all I needed to see. He did not believe this to be a coincidence either.

The further we walked, the more Einherjar we began to see on the roads, most of whom were heading for the palace. In little time, we reached our destination and entered through the southwest entrance, which was swarming with Einherjar. Somewhere in the distance, one of them shouted, "The queen has returned! Bar the gates!"

Once we crossed the threshold, the gate latched shut in our wake with a thunderous _boom_.

As we continued down the corridors, we came to a number of Einherjar distributing weapons to their comrades. With a second's pause, Loki took hold of a thin black and bronze spear. Several guards frowned at him, but they made no objections.

Sliding my hand beneath my cloak, I detached my shield and equipped it over my bracer. Side by side, we were prepared for any coming battle, though I hoped the predicament in the dungeons would not escalate into such a conflict.

Descending a short flight of stairs, we came to a stately passageway, one that connected to the entrance hall. It was in this passage that we happened upon Odin. He appeared as I saw him last, dressed in bronze and grey armour. Of course, he seemed far more harried now than he had then.

"Odin," Frigga called out to him.

He diverted from his course to meet us, pausing only to send the Einherjar further down the corridor. Upon his approach, he gave Loki a guarded glance. I was uncertain if he'd been informed of our return—even if he was, I suspected it would not have precluded his wariness. All the same, he did not acknowledge our presence beyond that. "It's a skirmish," Odin informed Frigga. "Nothing to fear."

While they carried on with their conversation, I spotted Sif among the Einherjar heading towards the entrance hall. She caught my eye, brow raised. I wanted to shout greetings to her, but I refrained. Instead, we shared a nod and the faintest of smiles before she disappeared from sight.

"Skirmish indeed." Loki all but scoffed. "There is more to this; we both know that."

Before I could even voice my agreement, our attention was captured by an explosion overhead. Peering upwards, through the latticework, I could see the bright golden glow of a shield enveloping the palace. Never before had I seen a shield of such magnitude. We were being struck from the air, a fact that served as further proof—the dungeon alarm was no mere coincidence. This was an attack.

In silence, everyone in the corridor paused to watch the shield rise. When it reached its peak, blanketing the entirety of the palace, Odin nodded to Frigga. "Take Jane Foster to your chambers," he said. "I will come to you when it's safe."

There was the hint of a smile on her lips. "You take care."

"Despite all I have survived," Odin replied, laying a tender hand on her cheek, "my queen still worries for me."

"It's only because I worry over you that you have survived," she quipped in return.

Odin graced Loki with one last look. To me, he gave a courteous nod. Parting from our company, the All-Father joined the Einherjar who continued their march into the entrance hall.

The rest of us hurried in the opposite direction, towards the corridors that would lead into the west wing where the royal apartments resided. "Listen to me now," Frigga said to Jane. "I need you to do everything I ask, no questions."

Jane responded with a fraught, "Yes ma'am."

We hastened through several long corridors, each more narrow than the last. Frigga and Jane walked with greater celerity, their steps frantic. Loki and I took up the rear, some yards behind them, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings as we often did.

The moment we entered the hallway that would lead into the west wing, Loki called his mother to a halt. "Wait, stop." She and Jane looked round, bewildered. "This is a ridiculous plan," he said. "The apartments will be deplorably insecure. There are too many points of access to defend."

"I would have her taken to the north wing, but the dungeons have yet to be secured," Frigga countered.

Loki shook his head. "Then we would fare better in the astronomy spire. The stairs would be infinitely easier to barricade."

Frigga fell silent for a moment, careful to consider his suggestion. "Perhaps you are right. However, we would need to—"

A rumble sounded somewhere deep beneath the palace. The four of us looked about, our eyes drawn to the latticework window on the lefthand side. Stomach churning, I watched as the palace shield began to crumble, its golden sheen retracting little by little. A terrible chill drenched me from head to toe the very instant we were left vulnerable. That feeling worsened at the sight of an aircraft heading for the palace—and it was careening straight towards us.

My instincts led me to Loki. Eyes wide, I grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards. We barely had a chance to scurry back the way we came before plummeting to the ground. Just seconds after we struck the floor, the flying craft crashed into the palace, shattering the latticework, broken stone surging in all directions. When the hull hit the wall, it came to a stop.

I did not wait for the dust to settle to lift my head and gaze through the sudden bout of disorder. Blood draining from my face, I realized I could not see Frigga or Jane. But I did not assume they were dead. _The large black craft must have separated us_.

With a dry swallow, I looked down at Loki. He lay on his back, motionless, eyes closed, blood marking his brow. My heart nearly stopped right then, and I reached out, grasping the lapels of his overcoat with both hands. "By the Norns, Loki, wake up." I slid my hands further up his chest to cradle his head. "Please, open your eyes. We need to get out of here."

He blinked up at me then, his regard slow and unfocussed. The circumstances of the last few moments seemed to escape him until they made an abrupt return. "Eirlys." He held my face between his palms and surveyed my condition for the second time this long and ever-worsening day. "My mother?"

"I do not know." Staring up at the ship, I eased into a crouch. With my hand on Loki's elbow, we both stood. "Nor can I discern why this vessel sits, unmoving."

The body of the ship was pyramidal in shape, a fin protruding from the top and a much longer one digging deep into the ground. Dark even in the sun, the black metal reminded me of the Dark Elf ship we'd stumbled upon earlier. _No_ , I thought. _This_ is _a Dark Elf ship_. But how could that be possible? The Dark Elves wouldn't have been capable of this, not after their previous failure.

"They've blocked their own door," Loki said, gesturing to the centre of the aircraft, which was pressed up against the wall. "The fools have bought us time."

But they also blocked our path. They'd destroyed the floor, the gap left by it's fin too great for us to cross. With a deep breath, I started towards the ship, tripping on a stone or two as I went. Just beneath the ship's underside, there was a small space where the ship's bottom fin did not quite touch the wall. The space was not enough for either of us to climb through. Even so, I could see a small segment of the other side.

"My lady? Can you hear me?" I called. My gaze remained on the ship for any sign of movement. "Jane Foster, are you there?"

Frigga appeared, and I could not withhold my sigh of relief. The slant of the ship gave us a diagonal window, allowing me a view of her face. "We are both all right," Frigga assured me.

Loki pressed himself close. "As are we."

"I fear more of our enemies have begun to fill these halls," she said, her speech quickening. "It would be too great a risk to attempt to reach the astronomy spire now. Jane Foster and I will continue to the west wing. Find us there."

Although it was not the preferred option, Loki gave his begrudging assent. "We'll be forced to take the long way round now."

"Yes." Frigga looked between the two of us. "Look after each other."

"Be careful, my lady," I said.

Her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Should I not be telling you that? You two have a talent for finding yourselves in the most perilous of situations."

In spite of everything, I still laughed.

Without warning, a slab of metal came from above and fell to the ground with a massive _clang_. Loki and I backed away, looking upwards to see numerous beings attempting to climb from the hole left behind—the escape hatch, as it were. All it took was one glimpse to confirm that they were, in fact, Dark Elves.

Loki tugged on my arm. "We best leave now. Lead them away from here."

Upon nodding to him, I said to Frigga, "We shall see you soon."

Then we were running, down the corridors from whence we came. Our path went unhindered, which was perhaps a blessing and a curse, for that meant there was not another soul in sight. No Einherjar. No Dark Elves, except for those on our tail. I knew, no matter how fast we ran, we would have to face them sooner or later.

Reaching the large double doors that would give way to the entrance hall, Loki and I paused, our hands resting on both handles. The sounds of battle drifted through, ever increasing and ever nearer. Breath uneven, I stepped back to draw my sword. At my nod, Loki pushed the doors open.

In the entrance hall, a squadron of Einherjar was locked in conflict with a score of Dark Elves. The sight before us felt all too familiar. We once clashed with the Dark Elves in the palace, long ago. I did not think we would face so many again in these halls—nor did I expect such firepower.

Regardless of the resemblance, I sensed something was different. These Dark Elves were different. They were creatures from the ancient days, born before the universe itself. Their weapons were more powerful, outmatching our forces even if their numbers did not.

In the face of such disadvantage, the Einherjar waged on. Those swift of foot dodged and weaved between blasts, striking down the Dark Elves. Encouraged, I shared a glance with Loki before flinging myself into the fray. Moving apart, we circled around a bronze column and took the Dark Elves by surprise; they clearly had not expected anyone to assail them from behind.

Loki did not hesitate. He attacked first, stabbing upwards with his spear, slicing through armour and backbone. I rolled forwards, a bright red blast soaring just inches past me. Rising on one knee, I blocked a second blast with my shield. I launched myself at my assailant, running Silvertongue through his heart. Several Dark Elves, all of them wearing white masks, turned on us then, having noticed our arrival at last.

To my right, Loki ducked a blast and threw a handful of knives, each of them meeting their mark. There was but a moment's pause as we observed the scene around us. We'd brought down four Elves in the span of thirty seconds. Knowing that the Dark Elves in our wake drew closer with every passing second, we started forwards to stand amongst our allies and immersed ourselves in the heart of battle.

While Loki moved to engage another Dark Elf, I ensured that we were protected, keeping my back to him to absorb every strike. To this day, it still felt odd to bear a metal shield. I'd been so accustomed to having magic at my fingertips, creating barriers and utilizing them with ease. In heedless moments, I'd caught myself attempting to cast spells. _Only time will tell,_ I reminded myself.

"Lady Eirlys!"

I looked in the direction of the Einherjar who had called my name. But what caught my attention was the Dark Elf tossing a device—a device meant for Loki. He was in the midst of a fight, blocking and dodging, unable to see the device coming his way. Just as he ended his adversary's life with a spearpoint through the throat, I rushed to his side, shield braced over my head.

Brow cinched, Loki spun around to face me the moment the small, cylindrical device descended upon us. I heard it _clink_ off my shield and drop to the ground. Reacting swiftly, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turning us so that he could kick it aside. The cylinder hit the nearest column several yards away. It hadn't even completed its fall when it exploded. Or rather it... _imploded_. A vast swirl of dark matter ate into the column, consuming and destroying until it consumed and destroyed itself.

When the implosion dissipated, silence descended. We looked about to see that the last of the Dark Elves in the hall had been dispatched, bodies of enemies and allies strewn throughout. But that did not mean that the battle was ended yet. The Dark Elves who had followed us down the corridor joined the conflict at last. In a single swift glance, I counted five. If there had been any more in the vessel, that meant the rest had gone after Frigga and Jane.

"We cannot linger here," Loki insisted. "They can handle the rest."

Even if I knew he was right, I hesitated. Of those who survived the battle, eight Einherjar were still standing. They may have surpassed the Dark Elves in number, but that did not guarantee victory. There was little chance of the Einherjar surviving a second skirmish with Elves such as these. However, none of that mattered if the enemy reached their quarry: Jane—the Aether, to be exact.

Though the thought clung to the back of my mind, I sought the doors to the apartments. The doors themselves were gone, swallowed by an implosion of dark matter if the jagged edges of the doorway were any indication. Heart thudding against my tightening chest, I peered round at the Einherjar. I did not wish to leave them to battle a foe they had dwindling chances of vanquishing. And yet I knew I had no choice.

With a heavy breath, I quashed my reluctance and headed for the royal apartments, Loki at my side. My eyes widened once we entered the corridor. The long hall was lined with corpses, Einherjar and Dark Elf alike. As we walked past them, I felt my blood run cold. There were more Einherjar than there were Dark Elves.

Footsteps sounding from our left broke through the gloom welling within me. In seconds, half a dozen Dark Elves entered from the passageway that joined the west wing to the southwest entrance. The instant they spotted us, they skidded to a halt, mere yards away. As they lifted their weapons to strike, I leapt in front of Loki to absorb any blasts that would come our way.

In the end, my precaution was not necessary, for we precluded their attacks from ever being loosed. Together, Loki and I crossed the distance faster than the Elves could retreat backwards.

Lowering my shield, I slashed through the first Elf, my sword tearing apart his mask. Bile rose up in my throat, and I refused to see what death I'd wrought. When I moved to engage the others, flashes of magic flickered in my peripheral vision. In a heartbeat, I recognized the magic of Loki casting his illusions. Once they took form, the Dark Elves were firing in all directions, positively dumbfounded by the abrupt change in the battlefield.

Backing out of the fight, I stared at the copies of Loki evading every attack, sending the decreasing number of Dark Elves into a confused frenzy. Before I could even think to reenter the conflict, every single duplicate of Loki shouted in bizarre unison, "Eirlys, go! Find my mother and bar the doors."

I spotted the real Loki amidst the mayhem and watched him skewer a Dark Elf from behind. _Perhaps these Elves were not as formidable as I feared_ , I thought with a small flicker of relief.

Preferring not to waste time voicing a response, I continued on our intended path and sprinted down the hall. At the foot of the stairs, I slowed. No sounds of battle or otherwise came from above. Still, I maintained my wariness, climbing the curved staircase two steps at a time, shield poised before me.

When I reached the top, the corridor of royal apartments was simply... empty. Although odd without the usual Einherjar, it was far more unsettling to see it bereft of anyone. The mortal remains in the lower apartments indicated that there had been a victor in the struggle. If it had been the Einherjar, they would surely be holding position at the top of the stairs. But if it had been the enemy...

I was racing down the hall before I even finished the thought.

The distance felt endless. Passing by the doorway of an unoccupied bedchamber, I found the doors splintered to pieces, four slain Einherjar laying in its remains. Their blood was still spreading across the stone floor; they'd been killed mere moments ago.

Pulse pounding in my ears, I persevered and kept onwards. Upon entering Frigga's chambers at the far end of the corridor, I stumbled to a halt. My eyes fell upon her first, trapped in the hold of a monstrous behemoth. With a single glance, I recalled seeing him in passing inside the Bifrost observatory. Looking at him now and realizing his link to the Dark Elves, it became clear what he actually was. He was one of the Kursed, a Dark Elf that had undergone a metamorphosis to become a savage weapon. Having been gone since the fall of the Dark Elves, they were scarcely more than a legend. Stories that children told to frighten one another.

Another entity in the room garnered my attention right then—a second Dark Elf, standing some ways to my left. Unlike the other Elves who'd infiltrated the palace, he did not wear a mask. I took it as evidence that he was their leader. If these were the ancient Dark Elves who'd come in search of the Aether as we suspected, then that meant he was the wielder of darkness himself: Malekith.

Once I took in the scene laid before me, I raised my sword and levelled the blade at Malekith. "Let the queen go. Her death will gain you nothing."

Jaw clenched, I heard nothing but my heart, the beat more rapid than I thought possible. I looked from Malekith to Frigga and the Kursed that held her by the throat, sword aimed at the most vulnerable part of her armour, just beneath the arm. All I could think at that moment was that if I had my magic, I would've been able to extricate her from their clutches. But I didn't have my magic. I would never be fast enough to reach her.

Malekith narrowed his eyes. "Her life will gain me nothing either."

I needed to stall for time. "Not if I give you the Aether in exchange for her life."

"Silly little girl." He shook his head. "You cannot deceive me."

It was then that I knew they would show no mercy. My entreaties would not enact any difference. They intended to take her life, and it was left to me to stop them.

Against my better judgement, my feet were conveying me towards them.

"Eirlys, don't!"

Those two words were enough to stop me. When my gaze found that of Frigga, I could not breathe. I saw in her eyes all the fear, the sadness, and every bit of resolve that burned within.

"Everything will be all right," she said.

Any thought of responding vanished at the sound of metal slicing through the air. Aiming to kill me, Malekith had thrown a long knife with great speed. I reacted faster still, bringing my shield up to block the blade. It embedded itself in the Asgardian steel, down to the very hilt.

In the seconds it took to defend myself, I did not see the blade pierce Frigga's side.

By the time I looked up, she was tumbling to the ground, the sword clutched in the Kursed's hand stained with blood. I may have screamed, but my senses were too overwhelmed by the sight of Frigga falling for me to heed my own voice.

Although I knew the Kursed could not be harmed by my hand, the impulse to retaliate surged through me. I grasped the hilt of the dagger lodged in my shield and wrenched it free. Rearing my arm back, I sent the blade flying across the chamber. It struck Malekith in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, the sound of it mildly gratifying. A lack of sense drove me towards him to end his life, regardless of the Kursed that still remained, but familiar footfalls entering from the corridor made me pause.

The very moment the Kursed dove for his master, seeking to bring him to safety, a streak of lightning shot across the chamber. White hot heat crackled throughout the room, searing the right side of Malekith's face. I did not have to look to know it was Thor. While I was vaguely aware of him launching himself over the steps, attacking the pair again, the frantic urge to reach Frigga's side overcame my desire to inflict further harm on the Dark Elves.

I all but collapsed to my knees beside her. One glance, and I knew it was too late. Her eyes were closed. She seemed so at peace. At rest, even. But she did not breathe. And the blood... the wound... I placed my hands atop the wound, trying to staunch the blood, trying to heal. If I could summon my magic just this once. Just this once. If I had my magic, I could undo the harm done unto her. Yet... and yet... It would not have mattered, in the end.

She was already gone.

I withdrew my hands and stared at the blood coating my fingers. My awareness of everything around me dimmed, my vision blurring, darkening. Tears spilled from my eyes, going mostly unnoticed as a numbness spilled into my veins, ladening my limbs, clouding my thoughts.

A familiar pair of arms enveloped me, dragging me backwards, away from Frigga's prone form. I did not fight. I did not cry out. I simply turned in Loki's embrace and pressed my face to his shoulder, my bloody hands hovering in front of me. He held me close, silent and unmoving, his regard never leaving his fallen mother.

Hurried and harried, Odin arrived but a moment later. As soon as he saw Frigga at the bottom of the stair, his steps ceased. He stared up at Thor with a tear-filled gaze before kneeling beside his wife, cradling her head to rest his cheek upon her brow.

In the stillness of the room, no one said a word.


	3. Into Eternity

**Author's Note:** Hello again, dear readers! Thank you all for the lovely feedback. It's very much appreciated. I know I've lost a lot of my readership due to my very, very long break between fics, so I'm really glad to know some of you came back.

Some good news about my updating schedule: I'll be trying to upload a chapter every other week, time permitting, of course. But that shall be my goal.

The title of this chapter is a reference to the track of the same name on the movie's soundtrack.

Now, let's get on with the show.

* * *

 **THREE**

* * *

 _into eternity_

* * *

In the wake of the battle, Asgard fell into an uneasy quietude.

Malekith had escaped with his Kursed, his warriors, and his colossal ship. But that did not mean the bloodshed was over. The black space-faring vessel had faded from view, and even Heimdall could not determine whether or not they remained nearby or if they'd departed from the realm. Considering the Dark Elves had not acquired the Aether, everyone assumed they yet hovered in our skies.

No matter where the Elves were, we could not mount an offence. We could barely maintain our defences, as it was. For now, all we could do was wait. Wait and give a proper funeral for those slain.

Darkness crept over the land as evening descended, hours after the Dark Elves laid siege to the palace. I stood amongst eight other healers, preparing a funeral pyre. The familiarity of this circumstance was almost too painful to bear. This was not the first siege I had faced. Nor were these the first funeral pyres I'd sent into the sea. No matter how familiar these measures felt, the gravity of it bore down on me harder than ever before. This time, the threat of another assault hung over our heads. This time, Queen Frigga counted among the dead.

At the edge of the canal, I worked together with the healers to make the final arrangements. These were healers who had known the queen for decades—centuries, even. The funeral pyre on which she rested had been complete, and we now went about scattering petals of pink and white oleanders throughout the vessel. Lanterns hung from the prow and the stern, their firelight casting further gloom upon the proceedings.

In most instances, we would have days to prepare the funeral pyres and a grand feast to honour the dead. But, with the fear that Malekith would strike again, we did not have that luxury. At best, we could give proper funeral rites to those who had fallen before us. I was reassured only by the fact that some among us would find their way to Valhalla when this was over.

I tensed when the healers parted, their gazes settling upon me. After taking a deep breath, I approached with Frigga's ceremonial sword, the wrought silver simple but fine in make. With some reluctance, I lowered myself into the vessel, a hand clutching onto the port side. For all the pain it gave me to look upon her, I could not remove my gaze from Queen Frigga. She bore an embroidered dress of orange-red, the colour of the Vanir. Stitched white flowers adorned the shoulders, reminding me of snowdrops. Her arms rested at her sides, both garbed in bronze bracers that matched her breast plate.

My hands quavered as I lifted the sword and laid the hilt upon her lap. Taking a step back, I paused for a moment to behold her face. A veil shrouded her features, shimmering like a blanket of stars. She appeared as if in a slumber, her eyes gently closed, her countenance one of tranquility. I let the image sink in, hoping that it would replace the memory of her murder. Of my inability to save her. Most of all, I just wanted to remember her as my kind and caring mentor. As the queen I looked up to. As the woman who was a mother to me.

Chest constricting, I took her right hand and placed it on the grip of the blade. Across from me, Marawen, now the chief elder among Asgard's healers, did the same with her left. At the sight of her prepared pyre, my heart faltered, for I knew it was time to send it along the sea.

As though sensing my disquiet, Marawen stepped around the vessel to stand at my side. Surprise swept over me when she took my hand. It felt odd to meet her gaze. Her usual stern expressions and exasperated looks were absent, replaced now by a shroud of sorrow. She'd always been so unyielding and terse with apprentice healers and patients alike; she had none of Frigga's warmth or patience. Despite their differences, they'd worked side by side since Frigga first came to Asgard. Never before had I seen such grief in Marawen.

"We will finish preparations and bring the vessel out to sea," Marawen said, her voice so soft it did not sound much like her at all. "Go to your family."

That she called them my family struck me as odd, but I did not think to amend her. As strange as it sounded to my ears, perhaps she was right. They were my family, just as Frigga was. And that was why I hesitated. "May I... may I have a moment to say my farewells?" I asked.

Gracing me with little more than a nod, she climbed out of the boat.

I wavered for a moment longer, staring down at Frigga in silence. After several seconds, I bowed my head, hands clasped before me. "You have taught me so much. Gave me courage when... when I thought I had none left. Bestowed upon me a kindness I will never forget. I wish I could put into words how much your guidance meant to me." I struggled to withhold my tears when I touched a hand to her brow. "Goodbye."

With a shaky breath, I drew away and stepped out of the vessel. Casting my fellow healers a final nod, I began making my way along the canal. The waterway was narrow, its width just enough for a funeral pyre. This was where those of royalty would be sent forth on their final journey.

Beneath the darkening evening sky, I continued along the canal and slowed at the sight of the gathering ahead. The people of Asgard stood, solemn and silent, waiting to pay their respects to their queen. Many among them cradled globes of light in their palms, which seemed to grow brighter as the sun sank below the horizon, basking everything in dusk.

Those standing at the fringes of the crowd noticed me first. Wordless, they began to part. I gave the small bow of my head prior to passing by.

Halfway down the canal, there towered a stairwell that led to a platform reserved for those closest to the royal family. It was here that I withdrew from sea of Asgardians and made the climb, the steps spiralling upwards. Reaching the top, I passed beneath an archway to find familiar faces. Fandral and Volstagg stood off to the lefthand side; in tandem, they bowed their heads to me.

I strode past a pair of large fire basins, finding Sif somewhere in the midst of the gathering. She took notice of my presence immediately and turned to draw me into an embrace without a word. I returned the hug as warmly as I could. When she let me go, we shared a small, sad smile before I pressed on through the crowd.

At the fore of the platform, Odin stared out across the sea, never moving, never speaking to those around him. To his right, Thor and Jane watched and waited, the fire basins casting light upon their glistening eyes. Farther on, just a short ways apart, Loki stood at the balustrade. They all remained silent, even as I joined them.

Jane gave a somber smile of condolence, while Thor approached to press a light kiss to my temple. I touched his cheek for but a moment before seeking out Loki and taking my place at his side. Like Odin, he did not remove his regard from the waters below.

We endured the grave quietude for a time, the darkness of night creeping over the sea, swathing Asgard in its embrace.

The vessel that bore Frigga was the first to glide into the sea. It was little more than a glimmer on the water, the lanterns on its prow and stern flickering faintly. At the All-Father's signal, the Einherjar loosed the first flaming arrow. Whistling through the air, it set Frigga's pyre afire. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight, and I made no attempt to suppress them any longer.

From the shores on either side of the canal, over a hundred pyres were sent adrift into the current. Arrow after arrow soared through the air, setting every vessel aflame. The fleet sailed across the Asgardian sea, steadfast and gentle.

At the edge of the realm, the boats fell away. Glimmers rose from the flames, rising into the night sky—the spirits of the dead, or so it was believed. As they ascended, the mourners along the shore and atop the platform sent their gleaming orbs to follow. The pale blue lights took to the air, floating upwards to meet the stars. I liked to think they were meant to guide the dead to Valhalla, especially in the darkest of times.

As we watched the lights rise and dwindle into the Cosmos, Loki reached out to take hold of my hand. Through watery eyes, I glanced up at him, but his heed never strayed from the sea. Drawing a shaky breath, I returned my gaze forward and squeezed his hand.

In the absence of any other acknowledgement, he squeezed back.

By the time we departed from the shore, every one of us was exhausted, albeit wary. With no feast for the fallen, Loki and I retired to the dining room we'd once frequented when Asgard had been a more permanent residence. We sat beside one another, too tired to speak, yet comforted by the silence. Servants brought bowls of hearty stew and bread—the same as everyone else in the palace.

It was not long before Sif and Fandral entered, taking their seats at the opposite end of the table. They offered me kind greetings, though they did not give Loki the same courtesy. I presumed it was no accident that they sat apart from us for supper. If it meant having peace among those on less than friendly terms, then I was not going to protest.

While I prodded at the meat in my bowl, my appetite long since evaporated, I listened to Sif and Fandral's muted conversation. "They told me all the Dark Elves in the dungeons have escaped," Sif said.

With a sigh, Fandral nodded. "Those despicable creatures may have been locked up for seventy years, but they certainly had a lot of fight in them."

Sif hummed in response. "They say they were the ones who found the shield generator."

There was a pause before Fandral cleared his throat. "We think the Dark Elves who'd previously been let out by Amora and recaptured knew where it was. They just needed the big one—the Kursed—to destroy it for them."

Upon hearing this, Loki stood abruptly from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. I lifted my head, fighting the urge to reach out to him. "Loki—"

His eyes burned when they met mine. "Don't."

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving behind an untouched supper.

Sif and Fandral stared after him, their conversation ended. Once the door shut in his wake, they both looked at me, brows furrowed. "Forgive me," Fandral murmured. "I didn't think—"

"No, it's..." Shoulders slumping, I pushed my bowl away from me. "You did nothing wrong."

Unable to eat any more, I bid them good night before taking my leave.

Throughout the palace, Einherjar patrolled the halls, most of them weary and battered. There was little they could do now but wait. And fear. If the Dark Elves dispensed this much devastation in the first strike, then how could we hope to survive a second? Our forces were weakened and would struggle to recover for days to come. Malekith still retained his ship, a colossal vessel that we could not see. We could only suffer in the silence.

As I gave little thought as to where I was going, my feet conveyed me through the damaged entrance hall and into the corridor of apartments. The walls were unmarred, the marble floors gleaming. Every last trace of the deceased had been removed, as if these halls had not seen death just hours ago. Pushing the memory from my mind, I climbed the stairs and sidled into the sitting room of my chambers.

Loki was nowhere to be found, though that was no surprise. He preferred his distance these days; I doubted he wanted to be found. A part of me wanted to ignore that, to seek him out regardless. But I was utterly spent, having had no sleep since waking on Nidavellir— _Norns, has it been more than a day since I last slept?_

I ran my hands over my face and staggered into my bedchamber, the empty silence deafening. Shutting the door behind me, I sat at the vanity and poured water from a pitcher into the basin. After washing my face and patting myself dry, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Pale and drawn, eyes red and tired. Loki lingered in the back of my mind still. But, as much as I wanted to scour the palace for him, the cloying fingers of weariness dragged me down into the cold comfort of my bed.

Sleep, at best, was fitful. I awoke every so often in the night, tossing and turning. Once or twice, I thought I saw Loki in the shadows, beside me in our bed, but he was never there. Slumber saw fit to take me again. Even so, it did not last long. It never lasted long.

When I awoke next, I awoke with a start, flashes of an unremembered dream keeping me ill at ease. Inhaling deeply, I rolled over to see that the other side of the bed had gone untouched in the night. Loki had not come to bed after all. Did he not find sleep? How could he? I hadn't found any.

Laid on my back, I pinched the bridge of my nose. In the wake of all that had happened, I worried after him even more. Since Frigga's death, he'd said few words to me. I wondered if he was upset with me for failing to save her. Or did he blame himself for what the Dark Elf prisoners might have learned when he escaped the dungeons all those months ago?

With renewed purpose, I sat upright, carding my fingers through my hair. Despite the chilly winter air and icy marble floors, I shoved aside the bedclothes and forced myself to climb out of bed. Hissing at the cold, I crossed the room to retrieve a silk robe from the wardrobe. Once I donned the garment, I meandered into the hall, arms wrapped around my midsection.

My gaze fell upon the doors across from my own—Loki's chambers. It had been over two long years since Loki had spent any time in his chambers. It seemed an ideal place for him to seek solitude; perhaps he believed no one would think to look for him there. As soon as I crossed the corridor and touched the handle, a subdued voice behind me said, "He is not there."

I blinked and turned to see two Einherjar standing guard just a ways down the hall, nearer to the stairs. "Have you seen him?"

One of the Einherjar nodded. "He ventured down to the end of the corridor some hours ago." He gestured in the direction of Frigga's chambers, and my heart twisted at the notion of stepping foot in that room once more.

"You have my thanks."

I made my way down the hall, bare feet muted on the stone floor. The entrance to the queen's chambers was the last on the lefthand side, a pair of massive doors that stood at least fifteen feet high. One of them was partially ajar, allowing the burgeoning light of daybreak to peek through. Clutching my robe around me, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

A sickness surged in my stomach the moment I laid eyes on the place where Frigga died. Just beyond that, Loki sat on the steps, hunched over, gaze settled upon the very same. He was dressed in loose slacks and a forest green shirt, his feet bare and hair mussed. One look at the shadows settled beneath his eyes, and I knew he had not slept in days.

Folding my arms over my chest, I paced round the octagonal pool. My approach was brought to an abrupt halt when I noticed the broken glass on the floor. That and the fragment stuck in the palm of his hand. I cleared my throat and let my arms fall to my sides. "You have a shard of glass embedded in your hand, Loki."

"Yes, I am well aware."

When he did not speak or react otherwise, I loosed a breath and moved towards the basin set on the edge of the pool. The water was tepid, but clean—left behind by a servant, perhaps. Taking one of the towels folded neatly beside the basin, I soaked and wrung it out before grabbing two more. On the balls of my feet, I crept around the shattered glass and paced along the steps to sit next to him. With my thigh pressed flush against his, I took his injured hand into my lap and cleaned it free of blood to gain a better look.

The piece of glass was no more than an inch in length and certainly not as deep. All the same, I pursed my lips. "It could have been much worse..."

As I held his hand close with a dry towel, I plucked the glass free. He hissed at the pain, but the blood did not flow further, as I'd expected. Even with so little blood, I took the third towel and tore it to shreds, using it as a bandage. I leaned over his hand, wrapping the scraps around his palm, between his forefinger and thumb. Through all of this, he said not a word, but I could feel his regard on me.

Once I tied the ends, I leaned back, trailing my fingers over his skin. "It should heal in a few hours, if not sooner."

He frowned at the wound, jaw clenched and silent still.

After a moment, I heaved a sigh and said, "I miss her too." Fingers quaking, I reached out to lay a hand upon his chest, the dark green fabric of his shirt soft under my touch. "Loki, you don't have to bear your grief alone."

"That's all I've ever done," he replied.

"But I'm here now," I told him. "And I intend to stay."

He looked at me then, a stray tear escaping from the corner of his eye. Fighting my own tears, I cupped the side of his face and wiped the trail away with my thumb. When I made to draw away, he abruptly twined his uninjured hand in my hair and swept forward to capture my lips in a kiss. There was something harsh in his touch, in the way he kissed me. It was vehement and desperate, and I reciprocated in kind, my fingers grasped in his shirt.

Distantly, I knew this was neither the time nor the place for such ardour. But, as the fingers of his bandaged hand curled around my waist, I understood. I could feel it in his kiss—the relief that I yet lived, even in the face of Frigga's death. And yet fear churned underneath. I felt it in the tightening of his fingers in my hair, the clench of his hand at my waist, as if he feared letting me go. The threat of death lingered, invisible, above our heads. I survived an encounter with Malekith and his Kursed once. What if I could not survive another?

The moment we parted, I wiped away my own tears with the back of my hand, sniffling softly. I swallowed past the thickness in my throat and pressed my temple to his shoulder, reassured and comforted by the steady beat of his heart. Holding me close, he rested his chin atop my head.

We settled in the stillness for a time, enveloped in one another.

Sunlight began pouring into the chamber, the rising dawn at our backs. As much as we may have wished to bask further in the quietude, the day was calling, and along with it came the worries that hovered overhead.

Shoulders rising and falling with a sigh, Loki straightened and let his hand rest upon my bare knee. "There was something I wanted to show you."

From somewhere on his other side, he grabbed an object and proffered it to me in the palm of his hand. Although my eyes widened in surprise, I knew exactly what it was: a deep purple crystal from the cavern in Alfheim. I remembered gifting it to Frigga all those years ago—a lifetime ago. It was a mere sliver, but she'd cherished it enough to display it in a glass case. That glass case was now in pieces at our feet.

Glancing at Loki's bound hand, I lifted a brow at him. "You did not have to break the container."

Loki followed my gaze and curled his fingers closed over the bandage. "That was not deliberate."

With a small nod, I lowered my eyes.

"Never mind the glass," he said. "This is what you need to see."

When he reached out to take my hand, my heartbeat faltered for the briefest of moments. Upturning his palm, he laid mine atop his, the purple crystal nestled in between.

The effect was immediate. For the first time in over ten months, I sensed it. The hum of magic. _His magic_. And I could feel mine, reaching out to him, wanting to touch the crystal, to converge with his magic there. The sensation of warmth in my chest—the core of my magic—was so sudden, so intense, that I felt winded.

But then it faded once more, melting away into nothing, leaving behind scarcely more than a smouldering ache. For months now, it seemed I was healing, little by little. The crystal must have promoted that healing, encouraged it, lent to it a flicker of a spark. Even so, it wasn't quite enough. My magic needed more time. I needed more time.

Past the tears welling in my eyes, I met Loki's gaze. "For but a second, it worked," I said. "I felt something... my magic..."

He canted his head. "Then it's improved?"

"If only a little." Shaking my head, I removed my hand from his. "I should have healed faster. I should have done something more to... to reclaim my strength."

If I'd been more persistent—if I'd healed sooner, sought out the crystal earlier, made more of an effort to recover my magic—could I have saved Frigga? Her life was taken before my very eyes. I stood by, unable to stop Malekith and the Kursed. With the full extent of my magic at my fingertips, would she have survived?

I tried to hold back my tears. But, after hours of doing just that, my efforts were for naught, and they made their trails down my cheeks. Head bowed, I braced my arms around my knees. "Do you blame me?" I asked. "For what happened? For... for letting her die?"

Through the curtain of my hair, I bore witness to his stare. There was a clear undercurrent of incredulous anger in the narrowing of his eyes. "You were always so quick to blame yourself."

Shaking my head, I pulled my robe tighter around myself. "Perhaps it's just a foolish thought," I said, "but I feel as though I failed. I should have done... _something_."

"Eirlys." He took my left arm into his grasp, his fingers pressing against the scar on my forearm. It did not hurt anymore, but I could never forget what jorgandr venom felt like on my skin. "The only ones to blame are Malekith and his Kursed."

My brow dropped. "Then... you do not blame yourself either? Earlier, in the dining room... I thought you upset."

He canted his head to one side. "Perhaps I was, in a way." He let his gaze drift across the chamber, his expression hardening. "I should have killed them. I should have killed them all, like I killed Nalak." There was ice in his eyes when he looked back at me, a chilling tempestuous rage. "I will stop at nothing until they are dead."

Although my chest seemed to tighten at his declaration, I nodded still and said, "You'll definitely have that chance. There is no doubt in my mind that Malekith will return for the Aether. Though I find myself wondering what exactly he plans on doing with it."

Shoulder rising and falling, Loki leaned back a touch, his head tilting to one side. "I imagine he hopes to engulf the Nine Realms in darkness at the very height of the Convergence, as he intended to do millennia ago," he told me. "The Dark Elves thrive in the darkness. He could be trying to save his race, give his people a chance to prosper when they have floundered all these years. On the other hand..." Frowning, he trailed off and shook his head.

"What is it?" I asked. "Do you fear that is not his intention?"

"The Aether could be capable of many things. As an ancient relic of dark energy, the nearness of the Convergence could magnify its power," he said, his expression darkening. "I suppose what he actually does with it matters little. If we cannot put an end to them soon, our chances of surviving the coming days might very well be nonexistent."

A creak at the door caused us both to tense, our gazes darting across the room. The door opened a bit further, and we lowered our guard upon seeing Thor.

"I have been looking everywhere for you both," he said. For one long moment, he seemed reluctant to enter the chamber. But he entered nevertheless, pacing towards the fireplace opposite from where we sat. On the mantle, Frigga had arranged a display of small relics and ornaments; the purple crystal must have been among them, for there was an empty space near the middle.

Thor's regard flitted between us before falling to the glass on the floor. He frowned at the sight, but said nothing of it. Instead, he made an unexpected declaration: "We must leave Asgard. And I need your help."

While I blinked several times, Loki did not seem the least bit surprised. "You want to take Jane Foster from the palace so Malekith does not continue to rain death upon the realm."

Brow furrowing, Thor crossed his arms. "You already know?"

"It's the only option you have," Loki replied, "lest you allow more Asgardians to die."

Loki cast me a look then, a silent question. Verily, he was right; leaving Asgard was the only choice we had. If we were to face the Dark Elves, no matter the circumstance, then would it not be best to minimize the casualties? Some distant part of my mind marvelled at the fact that Thor and Loki seemed to agree upon something. "What have you planned thus far?" I asked.

"Not here," Thor said, glancing over his shoulder, as if he feared unwanted ears were listening. "The success of this undertaking requires utmost discretion."

At that moment, I became wholly aware that Odin had not approved of this venture. Therefore, Thor turned to he who defied the All-Father most. Loki must have apprehended just the same, for he asked no questions, instead simply saying, "Well then. When do we start?"

Few words were exchanged after that, expressing little more than a meeting place before we parted ways to prepare.

As soon as Loki and I were properly dressed, we left the palace to seek out the nearest tavern. Loki thought to take various side roads, doubling back to divert anyone who might be tailing us. At first, it seemed needless, but I came to understand his caution. Odin would have feared Loki's scheming, even at a time like this—or perhaps even more so. In a time of such upheaval, he might have thought Loki would use it to his advantage.

After Loki was certain we were no longer being followed—if we were ever followed at all—we strode into the tavern, vigilant and furtive. The tavern was empty this day, save for Thor. I wondered if he'd cleared the establishment of its patrons, or if no one had been interested in becoming inebriated when the threat of death remained. The former was more probable.

We joined him at a table near the back, Loki slouching into a chair while I perched carefully on the edge of one. To the two of us, Thor explained the basics. The palace shields could not be restored, and the Dark Elves continued to elude our sight. Because our defences were at their worst, the Einherjar had taken Jane into their custody, forbidding Thor from seeing her again. And that was why we needed to escape.

"Would you have me shield us from Heimdall's eyes and ears?" Loki asked.

Without hesitation, Thor shook his head. "I have already requested his presence. I know he will agree with us."

Loki frowned, but he did not argue. "Then what do you have in mind?"

He laid out his plan and what it required. We would have to free Jane Foster from her jailers, acquire an aircraft, evade any Asgardians who would surely attempt to stop us. Of most import, we needed to leave through a pathway to another realm. And not just any realm—it had to be Svartalfheim.

Thor gave Loki a pointed look. "I know you did not share the location of every pathway with the Asgardian sorcerers."

A smirk shadowed Loki's features. "Aren't you just delighted I didn't? They would have closed it if I had."

"It is perhaps the only benefit your secrets have wrought," Thor said begrudgingly.

I canted my head to the side. "So... you seek to draw the Dark Elves back to Svartalfheim? What would we do then? We would have little chance against Malekith—and especially against the Kursed he keeps at his side."

"That may be so," Thor said, "but Malekith is the only one who can draw the Aether from Jane. I will destroy it when he does."

"Destroy it? One of the Infinity Stones?" Loki remarked. "You make it seem as simple as crushing a grape with your bare hands."

The criticism peeved Thor greatly. "You're the one who shattered the Tesseract. Who's to say I cannot destroy the Aether?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "I shattered the Cube, yes, but the energy within—that was the true essence of the Tesseract. I had to send it through the Cosmos, a feat that nearly killed me." He glanced my way, his expression softening for the barest of moments. "Very nearly so." Jaw clenched, he returned his sharp regard to Thor. "My point is that it's still out there, somewhere in the deep recesses of the Nine Realms. It would be foolish to think you could destroy the Aether."

Thor glowered at his brother. "How do you know? They may both be Infinity Stones, but they are not the same. I am certain I have the might to destroy the Aether once and for all."

"Such confidence," Loki all but scoffed. "You have always done this. You never think things through, just expecting them to work in your favour. Tell me, Thor: what shall you do when destroying the Aether is not an option?"

"I will not allow that to happen." Frowning, Loki moved to retort, but Thor did not let him. "I will save Jane and rid the Nine Realms of the Aether, or I will die in the attempt."

I knew—I just knew—that Loki was on the verge of affirming Thor's inevitable failure and death, but this time I was the one who forestalled him. "No matter what we do, Malekith will come for the Aether again," I said, leaning my arms on the table. "If we deceive him into lowering his guard, then we may have a chance at destroying it. If that is not possible, then... we are doomed either way."

There were several long seconds of silence as they both considered my words.

With a heavy exhale, Loki turned towards Thor, his expression a touch derisive. "Then we should simply seize your precious mortal and vanish into the Nine Realms."

Thor looked incredulous. "What? You would have us permit her death? The Aether is extinguishing her life from the inside. It must be drawn from her before it's too late."

"If it concerns you so much, then we'll find another way to impede her death," Loki replied, more placating than anything. Even so, I felt a flicker of surprise, that he would give the barest of consideration to such things.

But it wasn't enough to convince Thor. "No, Malekith will overwhelm us before we ever find another way," he insisted. "We must do this. We must face him."

An uneasy silence fell upon the tavern. If Loki had any more refutations, he did not speak them. I knew Thor's foremost objective was to save Jane Foster—something I also hoped beyond hope that we could accomplish. Aside from that, he did have a point. Regardless of our course of action, regardless of our destination, Malekith would find us and he would stop at nothing to take the Aether. The only thing we could do was affect the terms under which we confronted him.

"Perhaps you're right," I murmured, casting Loki a look. He met my gaze as I waited for him to interrupt, but he never did. "If we are to face Malekith, how do you propose we start? It will not be so easy to take Jane from Asgard, let alone the chambers they have confined her to."

"The Lady Eirlys is wise to question the difficulty of the path ahead. Do not think it a simple task that you could achieve with only three."

We looked to see Heimdall striding across the tavern, steps measured. It was strange to see him anywhere but the Bifrost, a post I would have thought he manned day and night without fail, even when the observatory itself had been destroyed. That he would relinquish his station made the gravity of the situation all the more heavier.

"You were not at Odin's war council," Thor remarked.

"You were correct to assume the Bifrost would not be an option." My brow rose when Heimdall removed his helm, placing it on the table before taking the seat to Thor's right. "It is closed by your father's orders. No one is to come or go. The All-Father will do everything in his power to stop you. And his power is great indeed."

Thor frowned, wavering for but a moment. He was, of course, not completely deterred. "He is blinded by hatred and by grief. But I see clearly enough."

Heimdall glanced at Loki and me, his amber eyes narrowed. "The risks are great."

"Everything we do from here on is a risk," Thor said. "There is no other way, Heimdall. I need your help."

Lowering his gaze, he gave a slow nod in response. "What do you require of me?"

Now with Heimdall's assistance, we were able to formulate a much more sound plan. _More_ sound, certainly, but that did not mean I held the same confidence as Thor. It did, however, prosper the moment Thor called upon our friends for aid.

In the darkening tavern, Loki and I stood off to the side, by one of the pillars. Heimdall remained just over Thor's shoulder, watching as he set about convincing Sif, Fandral and Volstagg of the path that lay before us. "What I'm about to ask of you is treason of the highest order," Thor began. "Success will bring us exile, and failure shall mean our death."

Fandral shifted in his seat, grimacing as though he were withholding a hysterical laugh. "Ah, of course. Every worthy venture ends in death or exile."

Sif gave him a sharp look. "This is about Jane Foster, is it not? And the Aether?"

"Yes." Thor let out a breath and folded his hands atop the table. "Malekith knew the Aether was here. He can sense its power. If we do nothing, he will come for it again and lay waste to all of Asgard. That is why we must move Jane off-world."

"But the Bifrost has been shut down," Volstagg pointed out.

"Not to mention your lovely mortal is now being guarded by a legion of Einherjar who will see you coming from miles away," Fandral remarked.

Arms crossed, Loki parted from my side and drew nearer to the table. Everyone peered up at him, a ripple of agitation coursing around the table. Though my friends remained unsettled by Loki's presence, they did not protest it. "It seems you have forgotten that there are other paths from this world," Loki said.

Volstagg upturned his hands. "How many more could there be? The Asgardians sorcerers have been sealing them all."

"There are plenty of which they do now know," Loki replied. I saw Sif and Fandral exchange a dark look; memories of Frost Giants in Asgard had been stirred. "I know precisely which one for us to take."

"And where precisely are you taking her?" Fandral asked.

Thor was the one who saw fit to answer. "Svartalfheim." Our friends seemed equal parts stunned and incredulous. "Malekith knows how to extract the Aether from Jane. When he does, the Aether shall be vulnerable, and I shall destroy it."

Once again, Loki frowned at the notion that the Aether was destructible.

"As for retrieving Jane," Thor said, "I will not be the one who comes for her." He turned towards Sif, to which she responded with a look of disbelief. "Sif, you know the Einherjar's patrol routes better than any of us."

Though her lips pursed, she inevitably sighed and acceded. "All right."

"I would have Eirlys go with you," Thor continued, meeting my gaze. "I thought perhaps we might be able to put your potion-making skills to use."

I blinked at first, but soon divined the answer to my unspoken question. "The potion for Jane, you mean. Your mother intended to..." I trailed off, abruptly reminded that she'd never had the opportunity to brew the potion because she was dead. She was gone. And it wrenched at my chest. Now, though—now, I had to finish what she began. The ingredients we handpicked could have been delivered to the house of healing before the Dark Elves struck. If they were there, I had to do what I could. "I... I fear I do know how to brew the potion, so rarely is it needed. There is also a chance the ingredients never reached the palace."

Thor nodded, a touch dismayed if not understanding. "If they did not, then I fear Jane's time would be further limited."

As his hopes seemed to dim at the thought, Loki withdrew a small notebook from within his surcoat and tossed it onto the table. "At the least, we are fortunate she wrote the formula in her journal. Everything is in there, should you have the opportunity to use it."

"How much time would it require?" Thor asked.

"A rejuvenation potion?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek, deliberating. "I can only assume it is strong and complex. A potion such as that would take hours to brew. Four, perhaps five at most."

"Then I would have it prepared for first light," Thor told me. "Go with Sif, take it to her. Through Heimdall, we will know when the time is right for the rest of us to act." He glanced at Loki then, brow wrinkling. "I would have Eirlys accompany us to Svartalfheim. Someone with her skills will need to look after Jane."

Although Loki's frown deepened, he did not outright object. "It will be dangerous."

A dry breath of laughter loosed from my lips. "When has the threat of danger ever given me pause?"

Loki scoffed. "There is no doubting that."

To the remainder of our group, Thor further explained the plan and assigned tasks. The trepidation in the tavern swelled with every spoken word. And yet no one would forsake this desperate endeavour. _There is no choice in this_ , I thought. _For the sake of this realm, we must succeed. For the sake of the Cosmos, we must endure._ There was no turning back now.

Once our plans were laid out as well as can be, Thor leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at each of our friends. "Any questions?"

"Yes, I have one," Fandral piped up, his voice lighter than it probably should have been. "Should I die on the morrow in the midst of betraying my king, do you think I would still be allowed into Valhalla?"

The query actually had Thor smiling, small as it was. "I can make no guarantees, but I will make certain to endorse you when the time comes."

Fandral hummed in response, neither disappointed nor satisfied.

In the absence of further comment, all in our company rose from the table and prepared to depart. I took a deep breath, a terrible chill ghosting along my flesh, my gaze immediately seeking Loki. He came closer, sidling past Thor and Volstagg as they exited the tavern, making play that they'd partaken in a little too much ale. "Are you sure about this?" I murmured to Loki.

He gave a short, derisive laugh, as if I'd just asked the silliest question in the Nine Realms. "Not in the slightest. But if Thor is going try, the least we can do is attempt to ensure this scheme does not fail horribly. The fate of the Nine Realms depends on it."

The corner of my mouth lifted. "You were always so reassuring."

He smiled in return and gestured towards Sif with the nod of his head. "We best not delay. I will see you in the throne room."

I hesitated, reluctant to part ways from him. For months, we had not spent much—if any—time apart. Now we were to embark on yet another perilous venture. Some part of me worried we would fail before we even left Asgard. What if I could not see him before the end? What would happen if we were caught, our scheme concluded before it truly began? With a shaky breath, I touched a hand to his cheek. "Please, Loki, take care."

"You'll never need to tell me that." He reached up and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip. "I should be telling _you_ that."

I wanted to laugh at that, but the strange fear worming through my heart was beginning to smother whatever remained of my sense of humour. "Perhaps we would both benefit from staying out of danger for once," I said. "But we both know the universe would never allow that to happen."

At that, he smirked and leaned down to give me a fleeting kiss, his fingers trailing along my jaw. When we separated, he took his leave without another word. Swallowing thickly, I watched him go, my heart sinking just a little more the moment he disappeared into the darkness.

In the shadows of the tavern, I turned to meet Sif. Silence descended upon us as we became the only two people left in the building.

"It feels like an eternity since we last spoke," Sif said, reaching out to grasp my forearm by way of greeting. "So much has happened. I'm... I'm sorry about Frigga."

I bowed my head, memories of the past two days flitting through my mind. Of the way Frigga's form crumpled in front of me. Her blood on my hands. Eyes closed, never to be opened again. "As am I." I couldn't think to say anymore than that, my mind too bogged down by the fact that I failed her. I failed to save Frigga. So weak and powerless I was.

"We will not allow such suffering to befall the Nine Realms." Sif offered me a comforting smile; it did not help as much as I wished. "We have faced countless ordeals before. We will survive to face far more after tomorrow."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Her smile grew a touch wider, though it remained ever dampened by the gloom.

Together, we stepped into the open air and embarked on a quest that would bring us either exile or death.


	4. The Great Escape

**Author's Note:** Greetings, everyone. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback!

To my **Guest** reviewer: No, you're absolutely right; I did not take your comments as criticism at all. Going into this story (part three, that is), I became very aware that Loki was not exactly canon!Loki anymore. This version of him has suffered through a number of AU events that had to have had some affect on him. More importantly, canon!Loki never had anyone to love him the way Eirlys loves this version of him. It wouldn't seem right to me if he wasn't changed in some way. Thank you for your lovely note. It's very heartening to know that there are those still actively reading, waiting for, and (hopefully) enjoying this story.

Just one more thing. I know some of these chapters so far have been kinda rehashing _Thor: the Dark World_ , but these events (and any alterations to them) were too important to the story to just skim through, so please bear with me.

And now, on with the show!

* * *

 **FOUR**

* * *

 _the great escape_

* * *

Graced by a dozen candles and the first rays of the morning sun, I scurried from one end of the potions laboratory to the other. It was a blessing that much in the house of healing remained the same after all those long years. Surrounded by familiar flasks and cauldrons, I could so clearly remember the days Frigga and I spent brewing potions. She taught me everything she knew. And I would use that knowledge to save the lives of as many as I could, even if I could only save the life of one.

I felt peculiar to be dressed in my armour, scurrying about to make the potion Frigga intended for Jane Foster. Of course, these were peculiar circumstances. A clandestine endeavour that required precise timing. I did not like the idea of disobeying the All-Father as we were, and yet the alternative seemed reprehensible to consider.

Laying the heartblossom flat in a beam of pale sunlight, I used a small pair of forceps to extract the nectaries. Once the cauldron containing all that I had assembled thus far came to a simmer, I added the nectaries and stood back to wait.

With a sigh, I rubbed at my dry, tired eyes before peering across the chamber to see Sif hovering in the doorway. She had been keeping watch, making certain that our activities went unnoticed. The likelihood of us being discovered was small, for the majority of healers were at rest after having treated our wounded. The few monitoring those in recovery were not supposed to leave their stations, thus it was unlikely they would enter the potions laboratory.

I crossed the room to join her, peeking my head into the corridor to see if anyone was in the vicinity. When I saw none, I stepped back and leaned against the doorframe.

After a time, Sif found my gaze in the light of dawn. "I am beginning to wonder if this is such a good idea."

My brow lifted. "Is that doubt I hear? I thought at least one of us would remain confident through all of this. You had confidence to spare just hours ago."

She all but snorted. "Perhaps I did... But I keep thinking about what would happen if we should fail."

"I would tell you not to worry about such things, but I cannot deny I've been absorbed by those thoughts as well," I said. She averted her eyes, brow furrowing. "Even... even if we do succeed, what do you think will happen to you and Fandral and Volstagg when the rest of us depart for Svartalfheim?"

Sif was quiet for a moment, pondering before answering. "Surely the All-Father would not have us executed. At the least... not until our plan has failed in its entirety. If it comes to that, all the Nine Realms will be lost by then, and it would not matter."

The thought was grim, though not unsound. "We mustn't lose hope." My voice was scarcely above a whisper as I laid a hand on my chest in a futile effort to calm the much too rapid beat of my heart. "I trust Thor—and I trust Loki. They have faced insurmountable odds before. With all of us working together... we may yet see this through."

She canted her head and straightened against the doorframe. " _Do_ you trust Loki?"

Despite my pause, I did not doubt my answer. "I do. I trust him with my life. After he has given so much to save mine..." The reminder of Thanos had me clenching my fist in one hand to keep them both from shaking. "He is willing to sacrifice much for that which he cares for. And he seeks vengeance for the death of his mother. He would stop at nothing to achieve it."

After several long seconds of uneasy silence, Sif nodded. "I am glad." She did not say that _she_ trusted him, nor did I expect her to.

"At the least, we shall all weather this storm together," I remarked.

With a small smile, she inclined her head in assent.

By then, the potion was ready.

The brew was too hot to bottle, so I attempted a cooling spell. Pain lanced through my chest as I tried to cast this most basic of spells. Touching the purple crystal had fanned the frail embers of my magic, rousing that which had been nearly extinguished. But my connection to that flame was still healing, hence the unbearable bouts of pain.

For all my efforts, the spell—or the attempt at it—did nothing to extract the heat from the potion. With no other choice, I separated the potion into five vials, each proportioned to a dosage, burning my fingers as I went. Upon wrapping them in thick cloth, I stashed them in my belt pouch, the heat still radiating through.

Swift and silent, I paced to the chair in the corner of the chamber where I'd left my belongings. Once I tied Silvertongue to my belt, I clipped my shield to my back, donned my midnight blue cloak, and slipped on the hood. "Heimdall." I kept my voice low, knowing that he would be able to hear me no matter where I stood or how loud I spoke. "We are ready to begin."

Forgoing further speech, Sif and I departed from the healing room, passing by a healer upon rounding the last corner—Sigrun, I recognized. She glanced our way, bemused, but she did not seek to hinder us.

We crossed the entrance hall, slinking in the shadows of the tall and vast columns, pausing every so often amidst the rubble when a company of Einherjar walked by. I did not think the Einherjar would try to stop us from passing through the entrance hall, but Sif had no intention of taking any chances. There was always the possibility that Odin suspected we would try something. We were better off drawing as little attention to ourselves as possible.

Regardless of our privileges in the palace, we knew the Einherjar would not allow us passage to the north wing without explanation. As one of Asgard's most trusted warriors, it was left to Sif to employ a lie. "The All-Father would have us inspect the dungeons," she told the pair of Einherjar guarding the entrance. "We need to take stock of who remains so that we might have an idea of who now aids the enemy."

The Einherjar on the left glanced at his partner. "There can't be many left. Most are dead or escaped."

"We need to be sure," Sif said. "With greater certainty, we may have a better chance at resisting any further attacks."

The righthand Einherjar nodded. "Very well." Then both bowed their heads before pushing open the doors to let us pass.

We crossed the threshold, expressed our gratitude and turned left, past the broken rubble of the door to the throne room and towards the dungeons. As soon as the massive doors shut in our wake, we rotated on our heels and started in the opposite direction. At the sight of approaching Einherjar, we ducked behind a column and waited for them to disappear down the corridor.

As soon as they were gone, I let out a breath and followed a short ways behind Sif. She knew the corridors of the north wing far better than I—not to mention, her instincts and senses were far keener.

Upon travelling through the winding halls, we came upon one last darkened corridor. We could not have been entirely certain that Jane Foster was being held in this quarter of the wing, but Sif seemed quite convinced. In the aftermath of the siege, Sif had been given the task of reviewing the distribution of guards on behalf of Odin. There had been a greater concentration of guards in this passage, which led to the assumption that Jane was here. An assumption, not fact. It was simply another item on my list of worries.

Into the shadows, we walked. Although the latticework windows were open, the corridor was drenched in a gloom. It made it easier for us to sneak past another pair of departing Einherjar. They were in the midst of a shift change, just as Sif had anticipated.

We darted from column to column until we were within view of the chamber at the far end. I peered around the edge of the column we'd hidden behind and saw Jane sitting on a couch, refusing the Einherjar's offer of food. "How shall we proceed?" I whispered.

Frowning, she eyed the two guards in the doorway to Jane's room, one of which was carrying a tray. "You subdue the one on the left, and I'll subdue the one on the right."

I met her gaze and rose to my feet, signifying that I was ready. Then we dashed forwards, striking both Einherjar in the back of the head, the unexpected blow enough to render them unconscious. We had minutes, if not less, before their relief would arrive.

Jane stared up at me, wide eyed, as I hurried into the chamber. "What are you guys doing?"

"Getting you out of here," Sif replied.

"You must drink this first," I said, drawing one of the vials from my pouch. "It will slow whatever harm the Aether is doing unto your mortal form."

Sif approached and surveyed the vial of blue liquid with apprehension. "Are you certain that will work?"

Chewing my lower lip, I tilted my head to one side. "Well, no... but I did follow Queen Frigga's notes to the exact word. At worst, you will feel nauseated... or vomit..." I cleared my throat and proffered the vial to Jane. "Regardless, it should help keep your health."

Jane did not seem assured by my insistence. Nevertheless, she accepted the vial, removed the cork and downed its contents. Dropping the vial, she grimaced and said, "Ugh, it's so sweet."

"It's the heartblossom nectar," I commented, helping her to her feet while Sif procured Jane's coat from the chaise by the window. "In spite of the sickening sweetness, it's actually quite good for your strength."

And with that, we slipped from the confines of what was Jane's prison and made our way through the north wing, taking an unfamiliar route to the rear doors of the throne room. The corridor was deserted—another reminder that many of Asgard's Einherjar had died. I also took it as a sign that Heimdall had called upon Odin to address an urgent matter. The urgent matter being our presently occurring act of treason.

Hurrying through a narrow passageway, we soon entered the throne room. Thor and Loki were already awaiting us in the shade cast by the pillars. Thor greeted us with a relieved smile, while Loki stepped forward to touch my arm, taking stock of my condition. "Any trouble?" he asked.

"Just the ordinary kind," I replied. "They should be fine. We did not cause too grave an injury."

He smirked, seeming almost proud.

Gaze seeking mine, Thor detached himself from Jane's side to confer with me. "Was the potion effective?"

"Thus far, it has not made Jane sick." I glanced her way and saw that some colour had returned to her cheeks. "How do you feel now?"

Pressing a hand to her chest, she swallowed visibly, as if some of the potion was still stuck in her throat. "A little better."

I exhaled softly. That the Aether would not kill Jane just yet was a mild comfort. "I have four doses remaining. I can only hope that it will be enough."

"There they are! Apprehend them!"

We all whirled about to see the Einherjar coming up the stairs, following the passageway from which we'd just arrived.

Sif stepped in front of us, Drekisbane in hand. "I'll hold them off. Take her."

Despite knowing that Loki was waiting for me with whatever sliver of patience he had left, I drew forth to voice my partings to Sif. "May the Norns smile upon you, my friend."

She unfolded her blades, her regard focussing on the encroaching Einherjar. "Let us hope they do not laugh."

I almost laughed myself. "Truth be told, I fear they are already laughing."

As I turned to join Loki and advance towards the ship, I caught a glimpse of Sif's self-assured smile.

The Dark Elf ship sitting in the midst of the throne room was quite the perturbing sight. It had flown through the opening above the bridge, crashing into dozens of columns before skidding to a halt some yards from the throne itself.

Volstagg idled before the ramp of the downed ship, broken stones all around him. His eyes narrowed near imperceptibly at Loki, but they crinkled, gleaming at the sight of me. Upon my approach, he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Good fortune be with you."

I reciprocated the gestured. "Take care, good Volstagg. So many brawls in so many days."

"Oh, but I intend to have a merry time," he replied, squeezing my shoulder before letting go.

We continued onwards, ascending the ramp and leaving Volstagg to defend our rear. The inside of the ship was much like the larger one Loki and I found on Svartalfheim little more than two days past. This vessel would have been pitch-black inside if it had not been for the skylight and the faint blue luminescence lining the walls. Thor strode forth to helm the craft, pressing buttons seemingly at random.

Loki moved to join him, looking left and right with a skeptical eye. "I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing."

Shifting to the left, Thor tried another series of buttons. "No, I said, 'how hard could it be?'"

At that moment, Loki rolled his eyes harder than I'd ever seen.

While they delved into bickering, I led Jane closer to the bulkhead where she could lean against the curved wall. She furrowed her brow at me before glancing between Thor and Loki. "Should we... should we help them?"

I turned back to see the two of them arguing about which buttons to press and how one should go about pressing them. If it hadn't been for the severity of the situation, I just might have heaved a sigh and smacked my forehead. "We best not," I told her. "No need to add another voice to the quarrel."

Thankfully, the squabble came to an end when Thor ignited the airship at last, beaming around at us the moment the lights flickered to life. An outline of the environment outside lit up the walls, giving us a view of every exterior angle. Ancient Dark Elf runes glowing in red trickled over top of it, and I hoped that they were not conveying important information.

Loki looked less than impressed when Thor took the controls and the airship lifted from its perch, rotating about in the centre of the throne room. As he did so, he obliterated every column still standing.

"I think you missed a column," Loki quipped.

"Shut up!"

In seconds, we were shooting free from the throne room and into Asgardian skies. Through the walls and the floor beneath our feet, I could see the city far below and felt unsteadied by the sensation that nothing would keep me from falling. I was reminded of soaring across Midgard in Thor's hold. This time, however, it sported greater dangers: the Einherjar had begun to fire upon us.

This prompted Loki to demand that he take over the controls. When Thor rebuffed him, they began another dispute, their voices rising in volume with every word.

Before I could even huff in annoyance, Jane stumbled beside me, the twisting and turning of our ship proving too much for her. I grabbed her by the elbow and steadied her on her feet, watching her with a careful eye. "I'm okay," she said. "I'm okay."

I looked up to see Thor's concerned gaze on her. "She will be all right."

"What are you doing?" Loki rebuked him. "Don't take your eyes off from where you're flying."

"I know what I'm doing, Loki!"

With the sounds of their persistent feuding in the background, I clenched my jaw and turned to observe Jane's condition. She had begun to grow sickly pale once more; the stress of escaping the palace and the spinning must have worn her out more than I'd anticipated. "You should sit." I took her hand and helped ease her to the ground. "And you'll need to take another vial of that cloying potion you absolutely adore."

She peered up at me, smirking a little at my jest. "Let's have it, then."

I dropped to one knee and was forced to brace myself against the wall when we crashed through an enormous statue—a statue of King Bor, no less. With tremulous fingers, I brought out another vial and pushed it into her hand. "Drink quickly," I told her. "We will have to abandon ship soon."

Jane did as I instructed, drinking the vial in one swallow. Tossing the vial aside, she scowled in disgust. "Thank you, though." Hands gripping onto wherever she could find purchase, she sat somewhat straighter. "Thank you for helping me, that is."

"You have come to my aid numerous times before. I only do the same," I replied. "Aside from that, I consider you a friend. You need not thank me."

We managed to share a smile just as the door next to us slid open. The wind rippled through my hair and my cloak, the strength behind it almost throwing me off balance. Squinting against the light, I perceived the Asgardian sea just below and the mountain range in the distance. A proffered hand entered my vision then, and I glanced upwards to see Loki standing above me.

"We mustn't delay," he said, expression pinched—it seemed his dispute with Thor left him rather vexed. "Our time to jump grows ever limited."

I stood with his help and approached the doorway. Down, far beneath us, I could see the skiff commandeered by Fandral. The ship was small by comparison and without a covering, which made it ideal for jumping into. It flew low, near to the water, in a steady and stable path. Despite my trust in the course ahead, I found myself hesitating.

"Oh Norns, I wish I could use my magic," I murmured, heart seizing. With a barrier, I could've slowed my fall and adjust my course in midair if I had to. But that was not an option. I had to jump without it. I knew I had to. Even so, I could not move a muscle.

"What are you waiting for?" Loki drew closer from behind, his voice ghosting across my ear. "You've never been reluctant to take blind leaps before."

Bereft of even a single warning, he turned me to face him and encircled his arms around my waist. Before I could even protest against what I knew he was about to do, he took a step over the edge, taking me with him. Together, we plummeted from the ship. I wanted to scream all the way down, but the force of the wind had taken my breath away. When we landed at last, I somehow landed right on top of Loki.

He grunted from the impact, and I scrambled off of him to kneel at his side, a laugh caught in my throat. "You haven't anyone to blame but yourself." The compulsion to tease him further welled within, but the thought flitted away once he grasped my hands and kept them pressed over his heart. "Are you all right?"

"Eirlys, please." He practically scoffed at my concern, reaching up to touch my cheek. "Do not think me so fragile."

"No one is as good at hurting you as yourself." Shaking my head, I suppressed a smile. "I cannot help but worry."

"Now, now, is this truly the appropriate time for an amorous moment?"

We both looked to see Fandral standing no more than a foot away, steering the skiff with ease.

Although my ears warmed at our open intimacy, Loki did not seem embarrassed in the slightest. "You're one to talk," he said, gesturing at Fandral's face.

The hint of a smirk tugged at the dashing warrior's mouth, and I took note of the slight smear of red lip colour on his face. "What? I chanced upon a delightful maiden with whom I'm acquainted. It would have been far more suspicious if I hadn't given her our usual greeting."

I lifted a brow at him, opting to say nothing of the matter.

A mere second later, Thor dropped into the skiff, Jane curled in his arms with great care. As he let her rest in the fore of our flying craft, I climbed to my feet and offered a hand to Loki. He accepted my assistance with no compunction, rising in an instant. Standing side by side, we watched the Dark Elf ship we'd appropriated fly further across the sea, chased by several skiffs piloted by Einherjar.

As soon as they flew out of sight, Thor looked back at Loki and nodded. "Take us to your secret pathway."

In an instant, Fandral stepped aside, relinquishing control of the skiff. With Loki at the helm, we jerked to the right, speeding away from the aqueduct, and skimmed along the sea. The storm of blasts from behind drew our attention to the rear. Through the spray of water, I spotted another skiff, this one by its lonesome. It seemed one among the Einherjar had sharper observational skills than the rest.

Our skiff weaved left and right, dodging every attack. Between strikes, we rose up further into the air, hovering higher than our pursuer. We slowed the smallest amount then, putting us just above the Einherjar on our trail.

Fandral stepped up to the edge of our vessel and sighed. "I suppose this is where I leave you." Taking up one of the ropes on the side, he gave Thor a salute. "For Asgard."

He dove off the side and swung onto the skiff following close behind us now. Landing amongst the Einherjar, he dispatched them, one after the other, fists flying faster than they could comprehend. Once satisfied there remained no more obstacles, Fandral beamed up at us and waved us on our way.

Smoothly, our skiff rounded a sharp mountainous prominence and soared over the waters. I crouched down as we gained speed and headed straight for a rock formation. When we grew closer, I saw that Loki was not going to swerve around it—in fact, he was aiming for the very thin crevice in the face of the mountain. "Norns, Loki, you're not about to fly us into that fissure, are you?" I tried not to shout, but the waver in my voice surely divulged my alarm.

"I never said this would be easy," he replied.

I shot him a look, my white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of the skiff. "Are you even certain the skiff will fit?"

He hesitated before giving a half-shrug. "By my estimate, yes."

Thor knelt beside Jane, staring back at Loki with severe incredulity. "Are you mad?"

Loki grinned, seeming to revel in our collective distress. "Possibly."

Letting go of the side, I ducked down when we entered the cleft, the sails of the skiff striking the walls. We bounced left and right, sparks showering upon us as the end of the crevasse neared. But before our skiff could meet its doom in the confines of the mountain cleft, Loki opened the pathway, magic swirling around us. In the blink of an eye, we were flying through streaks of light and darkness, a kaleidoscope of colours abound. The atmosphere shifted, a rush of cold air and gloomy skies assaulting my senses.

Our skiff bounced off the ground, returning to the air just as quickly, and it became clear that we'd reached Svartalfheim at last.

With a self-satisfied smirk in place, he gazed down at me, free hand spread outwards in a show of some absurd welcome. "Ta-da."

In the immediate wake of such keenly felt peril, all I could cast him was an exasperated look.

The landscape around us was barren and dismal, much like the area we'd stumbled upon earlier, when we encountered the crashed Dark Elf ship. Svartalfheim was not pleasant by any means, but it was where we needed to be. Through the thick clouds, I saw that the sun was eclipsed—an unwavering darkness that blotted out the sun. It struck me as appropriate, considering what was occurring.

I huffed and struggled to stand, the tension in my body slow to fade. "I think the verdict is that you are mad," I said to Loki. "Brilliant, but mad."

He graced me with a smile before I turned to survey Thor and Jane. She was sitting at the bow of the ship, cushions piled around her. There was a weariness in the slump of her shoulders, but she remained awake and alert. Even as relief coursed through me, I knew it would not last; effective though the potion was, the doses were growing fewer in number.

"We'd be better off keeping to the shadows," Loki remarked, guiding the skiff towards what looked to be an arrangement of razor-edged rock formations.

I frowned and peered across the lands. "Malekith will find us one way or another."

Loki lifted a brow at me. "Then we shall prolong his search for as long as possible."

A deep sigh escaped my lips before I laid a hand on his arm. "In which case, I need to ensure Jane can survive that long."

Across the skiff, Thor and Jane were speaking in low voices. He'd given her a blanket, which she tucked up to her chin. With every passing second, she looked more tired, her skin growing increasingly pallid. As this became visibly evident, the furrow in Thor's brow deepened further. When I approached the pair, I withdrew another vial—the third of five now. I knelt beside Jane, opposite Thor, and presented the potion to her.

There was a moment of reluctance. Nevertheless, she freed her arms from the confines of her blanket and downed the concoction without complaint. "Thanks," she murmured.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing to her arm. Once she nodded, I leaned closer and ran my fingers along her skin, the Aether rising to the surface in response. That I could feel the power behind the magical relic flowing through her veins startled me. Perhaps it should not have been surprising; the Aether contained a might not unlike the Tesseract. It was no wonder I could sense it, even with my weakened grasp on my magic. They were different from other magical items, far more powerful and potent. They felt... ancient. Born of a universe and a magic that predated the Cosmos itself.

It was rather remarkable that Jane could withstand the strength of the Aether. I thought it might be possible for an Asgardian to bear the energy for at least several days; a sorcerer could even wield it. But I did not expect a mortal form to persevere. I worried that it could be doing irrevocable damage to her, damage that we could not observe or sense. The potion was made to cure magic-based poisons. With something so powerful as the Aether, it did little more than hold the destructive energy at bay.

"You should rest." I withdrew my hands from her, and she snuggled into her blanket once more. "It may be some time before we face Malekith."

Without a word, she nodded and turned onto her side to find some semblance of sleep.

Sighing, I stood and paced along the skiff, stopping just an arm's length from Loki. Thor was quick to follow, towering over me, his brow drawn. "What is it, Eirlys?"

I chewed on my bottom lip and shook my head. "I cannot discern what sort of harm the Aether has done unto her."

"Father said it draws strength from her life force," Thor told me.

It reminded me of the Alfheim crystals, which both emanated and absorbed energy. But that seemed to be the only similarity. The Aether was far more destructive, powerful. Deadly. "I can't be certain if it's harming her beyond that." I glanced at her to see that she'd actually fallen into a slumber. _Her exhaustion overrides her fear_ , I thought. "The potion I brewed cannot banish the affliction like it would other poisons. It's slowing it down, keeping it from spreading, but it can only work for so long. Worse still, I'm depleting our already small supply. If the Aether draws on her life force, then I do not know when it becomes past the point of recovery."

Thor frowned. "So, we have time, but you do not know how much."

"Yes."

A great weight seemed to pull his shoulders down. "I see." He faced Jane, a distant look in his eye. "I shall remain by her side."

He returned to her, sitting as near to her as the skiff would allow. Averting my eyes, I let my regard drift over the rock formations Loki sought to hide us within. Except they were not rock formations at all. They were crashed ships. Most were Dark Elf ships, just like the one we found half-buried in the ground. Bronze-coloured ships sat amongst them. Although they did not appear familiar in design, I presumed they were Asgardian crafts that last saw flight five thousand years ago.

"If we survive this, you know we'll have to vanish into the Nine Realms." Loki spoke just loud enough for me alone to hear. When I lifted my gaze to meet his, he pressed on, "Regardless of what happens, Odin may imprison all those involved in this scheme of ours. At best, he may grant you all exile. Save for me."

My throat grew thick. I could hazard a guess as to what he meant, but I did not want to entertain the idea. "What do you mean by that?"

"I am too great a danger to go unchecked. The All-Father will assume there is no longer any need for me to heed his bidding." He looked away, steering the skiff up and around the fin of a fallen ship. "And he would not be wrong."

Leaning my hip against the side of the skiff, I began to contemplate how worrisome the matter of Odin was to Loki. Now that Frigga was gone, no one would be able to stay Odin's hand. Even if there was a slim chance the rest of us did not face execution for treason, Loki was not likely to receive the same clemency. He barely had before. His scheming now would not be taken lightly, no matter how well meaning it was.

"I know, Loki." I peered over at him to find him sitting beside the steering mechanism, his attention focussed wholly on me. "Once this is over... wherever you go, I will go."

In spite of his smile, his eyes held a glimmer of woe. "You say that now..."

"But I mean it," I said, drawing closer to take his hand in mine. "I know we haven't..." Hesitating, I let loose a sigh. "We've had our troubles in the past, but that has never deterred me. There was a time when you sought to disappear into the Nine Realms with me. Perhaps that was always meant to be."

Loki paused for a moment, impassive, before turning my hand over to kiss the inside of my wrist. "All we have to do now is ensure that we survive the day." The notion seemed to elicit a breath of laughter from him. "Which is easier said than done."

"Well..." I cleared my throat. "We've survived thus far."

His brow arched. "You sound so confident."

I shot him a half-hearted glare. "You cannot deny that we have seen some vague form of success this day. Is that not, at the least, somewhat heartening?"

"Be that as it may, the hazards of facing the Dark Elves goes a little beyond that of escaping Asgard." When he spoke next he made certain Thor could hear him, "I'm beginning to wonder if any of us will survive this. Malekith and his Kursed could slay us before we can even think to say, 'Don't kill us where we stand. We beg you to spare our lives in exchange for the Aether.'"

"We must face Malekith," Thor maintained. "No matter what."

"And after that?" Loki asked. "After you destroy the Aether—if you can destroy the Aether—what's to stop him from killing us then?"

Thor got to his feet. "That is a risk I am willing to assume if that means we can save Jane."

While Loki looked ready to argue further, his eyes darted towards me first. And I had to wonder if it was me he feared for. Perhaps Thor and Loki could have survived a battle with the Kursed. I, however, was no match without the use of my magic. "You let your care for the mortal blind you," he sneered. "You do realize she will end up dead long before any of us. If not this day, then the next. A hundred years. It's a heartbeat."

Ice ran through my veins, but before I could think to interject, Thor stalked across the skiff, looming over Loki. "What are you suggesting? That we let her die and be done with it?"

"I'm saying that you can't sacrifice everything to save her," Loki retorted. "You can't save her from her own mortality."

In a flash, Thor clenched his fists in Loki's lapel and shoved him against the edge. "That does not make her life worth any less than ours," Thor ground out. "I will stop at nothing to save her." After a strained moment, he let Loki go and took a step back. "She will not die this day."

Without another word, he turned back to Jane, his feet slowly leading him back to her.

Sighing, Loki leaned on the side of the skiff, expression dour.

I shook my head and gripped his arm tight, glaring at him. "You didn't have to say that. Thor is not the only one who cares for her."

He fixed me with a sharp stare. "It's the truth. He'll never be ready to face it."

"That may be so, but it's a truth he does not need to be reminded of at this moment," I said, pushing him hard enough to make him stumble a short ways. "If I were in Jane's place, the thought would have never crossed your mind."

Long seconds passed, and neither of us spoke. Then Loki just appeared to... deflate. He sat down, shoulders drooping. He looked so tired—in every way a person could be tired. Rubbing at his brow, he lowered his gaze. He offered no apologies for his callous words, but then he was never in the habit of giving them. "With only the three of us, our prospects are not precisely favourable."

Ignoring the persistent tightness in my chest, I leaned back and peered into the distance. "We can still triumph over this. And I would have Jane Foster live through this day, if not the next."

A soft breath of sardonic laughter sounded from Loki. "Ever the optimist."

"One of us has to be."

The bare hint of a smile lingered on his features while he grasped the steering mechanism once more. The quiet and undisturbed nature of our flight at present seemed to put at ease. Even if only for a short period of time. When we reached the end of the graveyard of ships, that ease evaporated in an instant.

At the fore of our skiff, Jane sat upright, sedate and silent. She turned, bracing her hands on the prow, and one name passed through her lips: "Malekith."

Following her line of sight, I discerned the Dark Elf ship descending from the clouds. Fear wormed deep into my heart as the thought of what was to come struck me in full force. The waiting and wandering was at an end. Now, we would meet them in battle. The coming moments could very well determine the fate of the Nine Realms.

But we did not fly towards them as I anticipated. Instead, Loki steered us further away.

The rest of us peered round at him confusion. "Why are we not making our approach?" Thor questioned. "They're right there. Malekith wishes to confront us."

Loki tightened his grasp on the steering mechanism. "No, we should keep flying."

For a moment, I feared Thor would throttle Loki. "Jane, for all her strength, cannot endure much longer," he argued.

"You don't know that for certain; Eirlys has prolonged her life," Loki replied. "Not to mention that she still has two more vials. We must bide our time." He straightened, keeping his regard on the horizon, regardless of Thor's furious stare. "We need to wait for the Convergence to pass. That is what Malekith is after. I will now allow him to succeed, even in the instance that we die."

"But I doubt Jane's health can endure that wait." Rotating on my heel, I crossed the length of the skiff. As I knelt before Jane, I was startled to see her eyes had become a strange shade of blue—a pale shade that reminded me of Dark Elf eyes. I elected to say nothing of it, simply proffering the potion instead. "Another vial."

She voiced no reply this time, only drinking the liquid with a grimace. When she pressed the empty vial back into my hand, I noticed that her skin had grown warmer. I clasped her hand within mine and frowned. Although my efforts were slowing the consuming power of the Aether, time was running out.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

With a dry swallow, I let go of her hand. There was no sense in deceiving her, as much as I wanted to spare her the grave tidings. "We haven't much time left." She paled at my words, but I could not offer any comfort, for my own dread swelled. Rising again, I turned my gaze to Thor and Loki. "We must decide on the best course of action now. We need a plan."

"For what?" Thor gestured in the direction of Malekith's ship. They hadn't honed in on us yet, but it was only a matter of time. "We can meet them head on."

"But we can't." I nodded towards Loki. "It was as you said earlier. There is nothing to stop them from slaughtering us and taking the Aether the moment we meet them." The skiff dipped low, and we were soon hidden behind a series of hills. "What worries me is that Malekith would not draw the Aether from Jane if we greeted them with battle. Of course, striding up to them and asking nicely is not exactly an option either."

Loki quirked a brow. "He expects a fight. Because why would we be so willing to hand over the Aether? Malekith must believe that he has the upper hand."

"So we cannot fight and we cannot give," Thor said. "What do you mean for us to do?"

Silent as the shadows around us, our skiff floated between the hills. Steeping in quiet contemplation, we caught glimpses of Malekith's ship. I was surprised to see it settle in a shallow basin, the ramp at the bottom lowering into the barren grey soil. Several Dark Elves stepped out, though I could not determine which among them was Malekith from so great a distance.

Seeing this seemed to spur an idea in Thor, for his attention snapped back to us, a fire in his eyes. "Yes... he must believe he has complete control." He met my gaze, steady and resolute. "Eirlys, would you be willing to take a risk?"

I blinked at the question, finding it alarming, considering the circumstances. _A risk atop another risk?_ We were tempting fate as it was. Nevertheless, I was much too aware that our options were limited. This was no unnecessary risk. This had to be a careful one. He would not ask it of me lightly. "What would you have me do?" I replied.

"With the Dark Elves disembarked, I want you to scout their numbers," he said. "If Loki can cloak you with his magic, you shall go unseen."

Eyes narrowed, Loki shook his head. "Loathe as I am to admit it, there are Elven sorcerers in his company who will see through any shroud I cast."

Thor nodded. "Exactly."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you have even a few spare seconds, please leave a review! I love hearing from you, my dear readers.


	5. From the Depths

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone. Thank you all for reviewing, favouriting, and alerting!

This is where the chapters start getting a bit longer. Also, you finally get to see where I'm going with the story since this is the last chapter that covers Thor: the Dark World canon content.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **FIVE**

* * *

 _from the depths_

* * *

At the top of a hill, we hid our skiff behind the rise of a ridge. Thor and Jane remained beside the craft, huddling close to one another, insulating themselves from the buffeting winds. Yards above them, Loki and I surveyed the Dark Elves in the distance. They lingered in the basin, unmoving. Waiting for something. Perhaps Malekith was attempting to sense the location of the Aether. Or he knew we were nearby and was expecting us to make the first move.

One way or another, it was left to me to put our plan into motion.

"Take my shield, and keep Silvertongue safe," I said, pressing both my shield and scabbard into Loki's hands. His eyes glinted with amusement, and I had to assume it was the reminder of my sword's name that elicited such a response.

After a moment of hesitation, I withdrew the only remaining vial in my pouch and proffered it to him, the blue liquid darker than depths of the Asgardian sea in the dim light of Svartalfheim. "Have Jane drink the last of it just before you enter the basin. She'll not have much strength by then, but it should maintain her life force enough for her to survive this endeavour... Assuming that we, in fact, survive."

With a deep, shuddering breath, I peered across the basin to observe the Dark Elves once more. The thought of having to approach them by my lonesome had my stomach twisting into sickening knots.

"You don't have to do this," Loki told me. "Honestly, it's an idiotic plan."

Though I looked back at him, I could see the sharp glare Thor cast his way from the corner of my eye. I nearly laughed. "Of course you would think it idiotic because it's not _your_ plan," I said. "Just the same, it's the only plan we've got. Unless you've formulated a new one this very instant, with all your infinite cleverness."

He gave me a dry look. "Judging from your levity, I presume you are ready for this."

I swallowed past the thickness in my throat. "No, I don't feel ready," I murmured. "But we haven't the time for me to muster my courage." This was our best option. Not even Loki could devise a better plan under such circumstances. Worse still, we were losing Jane, however gradual it may have been. We could not wait for the Convergence to pass entirely as Loki wished. I had to trust in Thor's plan.

Taking my left arm in his hands, Loki moved closer—close enough for me to feel the chill from his body. His fingertips grazed the scar on my forearm, almost reverently, before he slipped a small blade into my bracer. "As a precaution," he said. "Even if they see you, they will not see this dagger."

I nodded, curling my trembling fingers around his arm, my nails digging into the leather. He met my gaze, his expression bereft of all prior teasing. Before I could even attempt a jest of my own, he leaned down to capture my lips with his. Chest tightening, I pulled him nearer to return the kiss, vehement in spite of its brevity.

When we broke apart, he furnished me with a larger, more conspicuous blade. I clutched it in one hand at my side and offered him a wavering smile. "I'll be fine," I said, reassuring myself more than anything.

"You don't sound very certain," Loki replied.

"As if that has ever stopped me."

Somehow, we managed to share a smile.

Absent any further words, I turned from him, letting my fingers brush against his as I went, and started on my way. Obstinately focussed on my task, I did not look back, not even at the sound of the skiff's gentle hum.

Out of instinct, I kept to the shadows, regardless of Loki's assurances that I would be hidden by his magic. The hill proved difficult to descend, its steep slopes and unstable gravel sending me skidding downwards every few feet.

By the time I reached the bottom, the Dark Elves had begun to spread out, and I wondered if they were anticipating our attack. I spotted Malekith near the fore, his Kursed never far behind. They took no notice of me. They didn't even take notice of the dust and rock I'd churned in my wake. At any rate, it mattered little, as I was soon darting along the edge of the basin, making a wide circle around the group. I counted sixteen Dark Elves, including Malekith and the Kursed.

Venturing round to the rear of their company, I sidled closer, my clammy grip scarcely keeping hold on the blade Loki had given me. Breaths shallow, I almost came to a standstill. It crossed my mind that Malekith might take my life the moment he saw me. But I couldn't let that stop me. _He will recognize me_ , I reminded myself. _He'll know that I hold some significance to the Asgardians, as I held some significance to Queen Frigga_. He would be a fool to kill me on on sight, knowing that my death would incur their wrath and impede him from obtaining the Aether in time.

With that thought in mind, I advanced towards the rearmost Dark Elf, crouched low and—

I cried out when a hand snatched at my hair, another twisting my sword arm back and upwards, applying near enough pressure to dislocate my shoulder. Hastily, I let my blade fall to the ground with a dull _thump_ before any real damage could be done. My assailant kicked the back of my knees, sending me to the ground. Fingers tearing into my scalp, he pushed my face into the dirt, and for one frightful moment, I thought he was going to execute me with a strike to the back of my neck.

"Don't kill her. Not yet." I saw only a pair of black boots enter my vision. Even with so little to identify, I did not doubt it to be Malekith. His was a voice I could never forget. "Look at me, child. Tell me your name."

 _He expects you to fear him_ , I thought. Truth be told, my fear need not be feigned. My body trembled, and I fought for breath as I lifted my head to meet his pale blue gaze. The right side of his face was scarred—scorched from the lightning Thor had unleashed upon him moments after Frigga's death. I wanted to be disgusted by the sight, but I found it strangely gratifying.

In the wake of my silence, Malekith tilted his head, eyes narrowing in a show of impatience.

"Eirlys," I said. "My name is Eirlys."

His brow lifted. "Of course. Eirlys," he muttered. "Most interesting."

Without warning, the Dark Elf behind me grabbed my arm and yanked me to my knees. Malekith moved to stand at my back, reached down, and grasped me by the throat. I was brought stumbling to my feet, my legs failing to cooperate as Malekith drove me forwards, nearer to the centre of the basin. That was where we stood when he pressed a knife to my jugular vein and called out, "Come forth and bring me the Aether, or Eirlys will suffer and die by my hand."

Although I whimpered and shook in his hold, I clutched onto his arm with both hands, the thumb of my right grazing the dagger hidden in my left bracer. It was hidden from sight, but not from touch. I could draw upon it should the situation deteriorate. But I would not need it just yet, as our skiff came swerving through the hills and gliding down into the basin.

Silent, the skiff slowed to a stop a dozen yards from us. Not one of the Dark Elves moved as Thor, Loki, and Jane climbed out of the vessel and began their approach. Dropping Mjolnir to the ground, Thor led the way, his hands held up in surrender. At his side, Loki strode purposefully, his eyes never leaving mine. A short ways behind them, Jane followed, sluggish and drained. But she was alive. For now.

"There is no need for bloodshed should you allow me to take the Aether," Malekith said.

When one of the Dark Elves brandished his weapon, they came to a halt several feet away. The screeching gale was the only thing separating us now, but the Dark Elves did not seek to close the distance—to avoid inciting hostility, perhaps. A battle would only waste more time. It made me wonder: did they see us as a genuine threat, or were we little more than an inconvenience?

Thor looked at me, brow cinched. "We can't let you have it."

Malekith shifted, the point of his dagger digging into my flesh. The whole situation felt a touch too reminiscent. Being taken captive by a Dark Elf in Svartalfheim. Blade to my neck. Verbal threats gifted to those who cared for me. I had to suppress a breath of laughter. Thus far, they were reacting exactly as we expected.

"You cannot hope to defeat me," Malekith said. "You cannot defeat us." I could feel him gesturing towards the Kursed with the nod of his head. "I have her life in my hands. Give me the Aether, or she shall die."

"And what precisely would be the point?" Loki took a step closer, splaying his hands for all to see that he was unarmed. "You would seek to massacre every one of us in any circumstance. What good would come of such an exchange?"

Hand clenching around my throat, Malekith drew me up higher to allow my gaze to find that of Loki. "Tell me: do you love this woman?"

I was somewhat surprised by Malekith's intuition, and so was Loki, as indicated by the very subtle narrowing of his eyes. Nevertheless, Loki did not deign to confirm his suspicions.

"As you already know, a number of my people were freed from the dungeons of Asgard when we struck," Malekith pressed on. To our left, I saw three—perhaps four—Dark Elves bereft of masks. _Sorcerers_. Ones we captured long ago and left to rot deep beneath Asgard. "They were woken from stasis earlier than they should have been. My brother was among those who survived. But they have informed me that he was ultimately killed by you, Loki of Asgard."

In an instant, I knew of whom he spoke.

Nalak.

 _His brother._

My heart seemed to stutter. Even Loki's eyes widened a touch.

"However, I am willing to cast aside my desire for vengeance against you and the woman you love if you give me the Aether," Malekith proposed at last. "I will give you and your beloved Eirlys a safe place from which to watch the Nine Realms drown in darkness."

Advancing towards his brother, Thor was quick to oppose the offer. "Loki, don't listen to him."

Malekith pulled me closer, and I hissed at the feel of his knife cutting deeper into the surface skin of my throat. "Ask yourself," he said calmly, "what are you willing to sacrifice?"

With every passing second, it became harder and harder to breathe. Keeping his back to Thor, Loki looked at me, his expression unreadable. At the slightest shake of my head, he returned his regard to Malekith and gave his answer, "I would not sacrifice Eirlys for anything."

In one moment, he was glaring at Malekith. In the next, Loki had a dagger in hand and, shifting on his heel, he stabbed Thor in the abdomen and tossed him to the ground. I gasped aloud at the startling sight, my grasp on Malekith's arm loosening. Unable to rise, Thor extended his arm, calling upon Mjolnir. Never saying a word, Loki stalked closer, grabbed his forearm, and severed his hand clean from his wrist.

I cried out, shocked by the sudden display of brutality, and struggled against Malekith, as if I could attempt to stop Loki. The sound of Jane calling Thor's name pierced the air as she hurried to his side. But before she could even reach Thor, Loki swept forward and seized her round the waist, throwing her to the ground at Malekith's feet. "Take your Aether," Loki proclaimed. "Now you will uphold your end of the bargain."

Wordless still, Malekith gave me a weighty shove, sending me once more to the ground. I fell hard on my shoulder, pain shooting down my arm. But I thought little of it when Loki crouched before me, gathering me into his hold. He peered down at me, his thumb tracing the thin cut along my neck. After only a moment, he shifted me closer, so that my temple was pressed to his collarbone.

Vaguely, I was aware of Malekith speaking to Thor—deriding him, in fact—somewhere behind me. My attention, however, was focussed on Loki's hands. I felt him tying my sword's scabbard to my belt, the weight of it heavy on my hip. He even thrust my metal shield into my hands, and I had to wonder how he managed to hide both of them on his person.

Turning in his arms, I clutched onto his surcoat with one hand and watched as Malekith pulled the Aether from Jane's mortal form. My stomach churned when she rose up into the air, levitating several feet from the ground. The wind stirred around us, the storm clouds above roiling when the Aether came pouring out of her eyes like a stream of blood. The atmosphere grew thick and stifling with dark energy, its emergence blotting out what little light we had. Once every last particle left her body, the Infinity Stone hovered on high, a swirling black and red mass. Even from where I lay, I could sense its power, so potent it was.

Jane fell to the ground immediately thereafter, disregarded by Malekith.

Pushing himself upright, Thor shouted, "Loki, now!"

As planned, I dove to the left while Loki dispelled his illusions and all but stumbled forwards to shield Jane with his body. Beyond him, Thor summoned Mjolnir, which landed obediently in the hand Loki had pretended to maim. Electricity gathered all around us, the temperature of the air rising exponentially. With a roar, Thor channelled the stream of lightning into the surge of dark energy. Together, they hissed and crackled, blinding light flashing erratically in the gloom. I covered my head with my arms, bracing my shield above just seconds before it exploded.

Then all fell quiet.

The black smoke settled.

Through the lingering dust, I could see the red shards of the Aether all around us. They began to stir, lifting from the ground at once, hovering in midair. After a mere heartbeat, every shard morphed back into its viscous state and glided above our heads to return to its creator. Before any of us could react, Malekith opened his arms to greet the red Infinity Stone. It struck him hard enough to make him lurch backwards, his gasp seeming to echo throughout the basin. Despite the forceful meeting, the Aether was absorbed into his body, drawn in through his chest and his eyes.

When it ceased, he became still.

Raising his head, Malekith looked upon us, eyes glazed over in red. Never offering us another word, he simply cast a look at the Kursed beside him, and they began taking their leave, heading back to their ship. As they went, three Dark Elves parted from their group in an effort to hinder us. Without a moment of hesitation, Thor staggered to his feet and dispatched every one of them in seconds, imparting a single swing of his hammer upon each.

While Thor stormed after the enemy, none of us saw the cylindrical device soaring straight towards us. None except Loki, that is.

He reacted by pushing Jane in my direction, who I reached out to steady. I looked up just in time to see the device implode directly overhead. The breath left my lungs in one great rush as the terrifying whirl of dark matter danced and screeched. Jane and I were a safe distance from the implosion, but Loki—it was dragging him backwards.

My heart stopped.

I screamed his name, outstretching my hand to find his, but the pull of the rupture was too great, he was moving too fast.

In the blink of an eye, Thor flew past, tackling Loki out of the sky. They collapsed together on the ground before the dark matter consumed itself and vanished from the air.

Assured that they were both unharmed, I took in a shuddering breath, allowing relief to course through me for the barest of moments. In turn, I braced a quaking hand on Jane's shoulder to quickly determine that her health was making its return in the absence of the Aether. "Take shelter behind the skiff," I told her. "And stay clear of _anything_ that might land near you."

Face pallid, she nodded rather frantically. "Okay," she said. "Be careful."

I responded with a slight smile, then we both climbed to our feet. She did I suggested, hurrying to find refuge in the shadow of our skiff. I looked about, seeking Thor and Loki. Mere yards away, Loki stood at the ready, dagger in hand. Beside him, Thor wound up Mjolnir and went barrelling through the air in an attempt to strike Malekith.

We watched him soar into the Dark Elves, only to be swatted aside by the Kursed, crashing and tumbling into the rocky edge of the basin. Instead of turning to follow his master onto the ship, he stormed after Thor, massive fists clenched. Following his lead, a number of Elves broke away from Malekith's company before coming around to make their approach.

Equipping my shield and unsheathing my sword, I moved towards Loki, my back to his as eight Dark Elves surrounded us. Four among them were sorcerers, their ashen faces uncovered, electricity crackling between their fingers. I did not recognize them, but I had the sense that they recognized us. We were the ones who imprisoned them for seven decades, and they would be more than glad to exact revenge.

Loki loosed a long-suffering sigh. "I am beginning to wonder why they think they could ever defeat us."

A cursory scan of the Dark Elves informed me that none of them were carrying implosive devices. Nor were they equipped with their powerful firearms. I could not help smiling at Loki's arrogant remark, relieved enough by the fact that we were not yet dead to allow my humour to surface. "Some people never learn," I quipped.

The first attack came from one of the sorcerers. He let stream a blast of lightning, which I ducked beneath, shield over my head. Loki dashed forwards, faster than they could contend with. He pierced the sorcerer in the chest with a series of rapid strikes. The response was immediate; three Elves darted forth to engage Loki, weapons leading.

Stomach twisting, I rolled to one side, avoiding another blast of magic. In retaliation, I drew up on one knee and attempted a spell of my own. I intended to fling a bolt into the sorcerer's face, but it manifested as the most pitiful flicker of light ever to grace my fingertips. The Elf grinned, his elation borne of utter mockery. Anger flowed through my veins, and I wrenched out the blade hidden in my bracer and threw it. He clearly hadn't expected it, for the knife sank deep into his throat and no frenetic scrabbling to remove it could save him.

Revolving on my feet, I came face to face with two more Dark Elves. I blocked one's spear using my shield arm while diverting the second Elf's blade with my sword. Crouched low, I kicked the first Elf's legs out from under him and thrust Silvertongue into his chest. Breath in my throat, I extracted my sword and dropped onto my back to avoid an attack from the other Elf. I tried to wield my magic again, this time pushing everything I had within—from that meagre reserve of energy that I tapped for but a second the night before—and thrust it forward to produce a piddling flash of light. Despite its weakness, the light blinded him for a mere moment, and that was all I needed to run him through.

Chest aching, I rose tremulously to my feet just before Loki tossed a Dark Elf my way, already wounded and dazed. I ground my teeth and impaled him too, letting his body slump to the earth. Silvertongue gripped in both hands, I looked up to witness Loki making quick work of the remaining four enemies.

I found myself nearly gaping as Loki disarmed, stabbed, and sliced through every last one of them in swift succession, never allowing them to even attempt a single blow. The final Dark Elf had his weapon ripped from his grasp and tossed aside before Loki spun him about to slit his throat in a single, fluid motion.

Once the Dark Elf fell dead to the ground, Loki stilled, his shoulders rising and falling, his long hair mussed from the battle. He met my gaze, looking as though he wanted to make a jest, but his regard was captured by something behind me. Following his line of sight, I looked to see Thor on the other side of the basin. He was struggling to rise, the Kursed encroaching upon him with heavy, foreboding steps.

Lacking due thought, I made to rush to Thor's aid, but Loki tugged on my arm to keep me from going any further. "Stay back," he said, kneeling to grab one of the Dark Elves' weapons—a lance of some kind. "I have an idea."

He hastened towards Thor and the Kursed, lance clutched in both hands. Fear shot through my heart, and I fought against the urge to lend aid. The Kursed was standing over Thor now, pummelling him with his fists, preventing Thor from moving the slightest inch. Loki managed to remain unnoticed, racing across the basin, until he hefted the lance and skewered the Kursed through the chest from behind.

The monstrous Elf stumbled back, turning to face Loki who lingered longer than he should have. Words of warning stuck in my throat, but any need for them was precluded by the Kursed reaching out to grab him. And when he did so, Loki's image dissipated, leaving the air before him empty.

Slow and lumbering, the Kursed looked back at Thor to see Loki had reappeared and was now striving to drag his brother away. For a mere moment, I wondered what Loki had planned, seeing as the behemoth could gain on them in a matter of seconds. My question was soon answered.

An implosive device blinked at the Kursed's back, pulsing faster second after second. By the time he tried to grasp it, the device had already triggered. It was a gruesome sight, seeing the towering creature being consumed from what seemed like the inside out. In a tempest of red and black, the Kursed crumpled and disintegrated, the black matter receding in its entirety.

The following silence brimmed with unease, regardless of the respite.

I sheathed my sword and hurried to meet Loki and Thor, sparing a glance in the direction of Malekith's ship. As suspected, it had disappeared during the battle, bearing Malekith away so that he could finally fulfill his dark deeds.

Upon my approach, Loki sat heavily on the ground, shoulders slumped, the shadows beneath his eyes growing ever more prominent. "Are you all right?" When he did not respond, I did a cursory scan of his form to ensure he had not sustained any harm.

Affirming that he was well, I knelt beside Thor instead and touched a tender hand to the cuts on his brow. I always found it odd to see him injured—a startling reminder that even the Mighty Thor could be wounded. He was not invulnerable. None of us were. "I shall heal—oh no... my apologies." I sighed and shook my head. "I nearly forgot that I still cannot wield my magic as I once had."

"There is no need," Thor assured me, sitting upright. "It is nothing that cannot heal in a short while." He looked past me, in Jane's direction. She'd stepped out from behind the skiff, her previous weariness replaced now by steady steps and undimmed eyes.

Together, Thor and I climbed to our feet. As he parted from us and went to Jane, I offered a hand to Loki. Saying nothing, he accepted and stood, his stance wavering a little—something I had not expected, as he appeared physically unharmed.

Despite of the slight falter in his movements, Loki had no trouble sweeping past me to march towards his brother. "Thor."

The moment Thor turned to heed him, Loki reared back his fist and punched him straight in the jaw. Thor staggered sideways, hand to his face.

With her steadying hands on Thor's shoulders, Jane shouted at Loki, "What the hell are you doing?"

I darted forwards to grab Loki's arm when he made to strike Thor again. "Stop it, Loki. Stop this!"

He glowered at me, wrenching himself free from my grasp. "This plan was a complete and utter failure, as I surmised right from the beginning." With the shake of his head, he pointed a finger at Thor. "I warned you the Aether would be indestructible, but you didn't listen."

The clouds above began to churn, high winds burgeoning around us. "We had no other choice." Thor took a single step closer, somehow looming over Loki despite the little difference in height. "I would not have had Malekith attack Asgard once again."

"Now he will simply lay waste to all the Nine Realms," Loki retorted. "No one will survive."

"We can still stop him." The three of us looked round at Jane. Though she spoke with certainty, her eyes were lowered to the ground, as if sifting through unclear memories. "When he took the Aether from me, I saw him. I saw him on Earth. He's going to try to unleash it there."

As our silence stretched on, the blustering winds only grew stronger. Loki continued to scowl, fists clenched at his sides, but he did not seek to maintain the dispute. With a sigh, I shook my head and glanced at each among our company. "If what Jane has seen is true, then we have to try," I said. Though Loki turned his regard to me, the visible tension in his body held fast. "We have to keep trying. We cannot let it end like this. There is nothing we have not been able to overcome."

Loki issued a faint scoff. "You say that now, but some day, our fortune will end."

"Then I refuse to let it be this day," I replied. "If there is still a chance—as minute as it may be—let us take it." His expression softened a touch, and he did not give voice to any further arguments. "No matter what happens, we cannot remain here. Not while Malekith seeks to engulf the Nine Realms in darkness."

After exchanging a charged glance with Thor, Loki graced me with a nod. "Then we best find our way to Midgard. Any clever ideas?"

I lifted a brow. "I thought that was your area of expertise?"

By then, an enormous eddy began to stir somewhere on the far side of the basin. It gained speed, twisting and roiling as the dark soil began to swirl along with it in a growing sandstorm.

"We must find shelter if we are to decide our next course of action," Thor urged. "We cannot fly the skiff in conditions such as these."

Heeding his suggestion, we headed up into the hills in search of anything that might provide cover. The trek proved difficult as we battled the increasing gale and flying sand. I protected my face with my shield, trudging just a few feet behind Thor and Jane. Loki trailed in my wake, and I glanced back at him every so often to see him frowning at everything and nothing.

Despite the slow, gradual hike through the hills, we eventually came upon a cavern. It was little more than a cleft in the rock face, but Jane spotted it nevertheless.

The four of us stumbled inside the sliver of a cavern, my ears ringing once we were insulated from the roar of the sandstorm. Thor followed Jane further in, where she sat on a rock to catch her breath. While they spoke in hushed whispers, Loki and I tarried nearer to the entrance. The storm was becoming increasingly worse, making it impossible for us to leave. _Time is running out_. The Convergence was fast approaching. The Nine Realms were relying on us. But we were trapped in a cave on Svartalfheim.

With a shuddering breath, I turned away from the sight, clutching my arms around my upper body. "I know I said we couldn't give up," I murmured. "But what are we going to do?"

Loki looked at me, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "I don't know."

That he did not have a single scheme unfolding in his mind was startling. I was reminded that he had not slept in days—perhaps even more than that; I could not be certain. It was taking its toll on him. I could see that now.

Arms dropping to my sides, I pushed away from the wall and stood in front of him, splaying my hands on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat, rapid and unwavering, beneath my right hand. Under my left, I sensed his magic. The sensation wavered, my ability to perceive it waxing and waning. Though it eventually dwindled away to nothing once more, I still managed a smile.

"We have faced death before and survived," I said. "Why not now?"

A breath of laughter escaped his lips. "I think I am beginning to resent your optimism."

I could not help but smile, undeterred by his dissension. "Perhaps the Norns will allow us one more chance. We could stumble upon one of those tears between worlds."

As if on cue, a strange din sounded throughout the cavern. We glanced about, our attention drawn to Jane, for the unusual clamour seemed to be coming from her. Blinking, she rifled through her coat pockets before she withdrew a small device—a cell phone, if I recalled correctly. She pressed a button and held it to her ear. "Hello?" She looked up at Thor, her eyes growing wide. "Richard? Where are you?"

She climbed down from her perch and wandered deeper into the cavern, waving her cell phone around. Loki and I traded dubious looks before striding forth to join Thor. He furrowed his brow, seeming just as baffled as the rest of us.

"Oh my God, this is amazing," Jane said.

The voice of a man came blaring from the device. " _I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I had no idea Max and Sylvia were going to try to set us up like that. They kept telling me things about how your boyfriend wasn't going to come back—I thought they were just trying to make conversation, which I now realize makes no sense whatsoever..._ "

Despite Thor's continued bemusement, he still frowned.

Jane, on the other hand, hardly seemed to be listening to the man. "How am I getting service here?"

" _Is this a bad time? Do you want me to try you later?_ "

"No, no—please, whatever you do, do not hang up the phone," she implored, wandering almost aimlessly around the cavern.

"The Norns seem to have answered your call, Eirlys." Loki brushed past Thor and observed the rocks around Jane. "The barrier between worlds is thin here."

"Oh my God," Jane muttered, kneeling to look at what appeared to be Midgardian trash.

Drawing closer, I scanned the ground to see a variety of items: food containers, bricks, and... shoes?

I almost started when Loki grasped my elbow and guided me forwards. "At times, I wonder how it could be possible for us to be so fortunate," Loki remarked. "Perhaps your optimism is not unwarranted after all."

With a shrug, I walked beside him into the darkening cavern. "Well, we best not question it."

In the span of a breath, our surroundings wavered and vanished before being replaced by a somewhat familiar location. We were on Midgard, just outside the abandoned building that had been swarming with SHIELD agents not three days ago. At least, I thought it might've been three days. It was evening here, which only made it all the more bewildering.

Thor and Jane appeared behind us seconds later. "Come on." She hurried forwards to the vehicle sitting some yards ahead. "It's a miracle no one stole it."

"Hold it right there!"

Though Thor, Jane, and I staggered to a halt, Loki merely kept striding forwards, shoving aside one of the SHIELD agents who had approached to thwart us. "My patience hangs by but a thread," Loki snapped. "I recommend you stay well out of our way."

The three SHIELD agents, either frightened by Loki or recognizing who we were, scurried from our path, speaking into their handheld devices to their commanders. As Loki pressed onwards, the rest of us hastened to follow. Jane unlocked the door to the driver's seat—this one on the righthand side of the vehicle. She clambered through, unlatching the front passenger side.

Thor sat next to her, sheepishly asking, "So... who's Richard?"

Distracted, Jane opened the doors for Loki and me from the inside. "My... uh, my cousin tried setting me up with a friend of hers. Surprise double date." Once we were all situated in the car, she fumbled a bit with the keys. Then she paused and looked at Thor. "Can we talk about this when the world's not about to end?"

"Right." Thor nodded, settling in his seat. "My apologies. Let us continue."

While Jane struggled to ignite the vehicle's mechanism, I glanced in Loki's direction. He was staring out the window, squinting up at the sky. His attempt to ascertain the progress of the Convergence must have proved fruitless, for he sat back, his scowl deeper than before. With a breath, I reached out to take Loki's hand in mine amidst the multicoloured trash lying on the seat between us. Although he said nothing, I felt his fingers tighten around my own.

At last, Jane started the vehicle, the motor thrumming beneath us. In seconds, we were hurtling around the decrepit building and over the stone roads. It appeared the agents of SHIELD had erected some sort of barricade near the street, which, after imparting a few nettlesome honks, Jane clipped along the way.

With an unsettling amount of erratic turning and inordinate speeds, Jane navigated our vehicle through the streets of the city. _London_ , she called it. Judging by the way Loki hummed under his breath, he seemed to know the name.

Everything—the streets, the buildings, the people—passed by in a blur of shadows and gloom. No one here in this city, on this world, knew what was about to be unleashed upon them. It was my hope that we would prevent catastrophe before anyone could become aware of it, for widespread knowledge would mean that we were too late to stop it.

Despite the turbulent nature of our journey across the city, we reached our destination in little time. Once we deposited our means of transportation by the curb, we followed Jane into a red-brick building and through a corridor where a pair of humans loitered. They gaped at us, fumbling with their electronic devices, when we walked by and made our way towards the stairs.

At the height of several flights of steps, we headed for the door at the far end of the hallway. Without preamble, Jane simply threw the door wide and strode in, leaving the rest of us to linger in the doorway.

My regard fell upon Darcy and the young man I recalled seeing outside the abandoned building several days ago. They spoke to Jane, rapid and unclear, not yet aware of our presence. Thor cleared his throat and pressed past me to hang Mjolnir on a wall peg. I followed suit by removing my sword and shield, letting them both rest against the wall beside the door.

"Thor!"

Our collective attention was captured by a man I recognized, albeit a man bereft of trousers. _Doctor Erik Selvig_. Grinning from ear to ear, he had his arms spread wide in welcome. But then his heed shifted to Loki, who was standing somewhere just behind me. Whatever glee he garnered at the sight of Thor transformed into terror when he saw Loki.

"Loki..." Doctor Selvig took an aimless step backwards, almost losing his footing as he did so. "What—what is he doing here?"

Inching forward to stand at my side, Loki narrowed his eyes, head tilted as though he could not recall who Doctor Selvig was. But I knew he remembered. He always did.

"Are you well, Erik?" Thor asked.

"You!" Darcy circled around Doctor Selvig, giving him a wide berth as she went. Upon approaching, she gave Loki an accusatory jab in the chest. "You made Erik all messed up in the head, and now he's running around naked, blabbering his crazy mumbo-jumbo about some gravimetric whatchamacallit."

I frowned at Loki. "What exactly did you do to him?"

With a heavy breath, he ran a hand over his eyes. "I merely manipulated his mind with the sceptre and a few spells of my own. It was not my intent to drive him mad."

Arms crossed, Darcy looked round at me. "Your boyfriend's kind of a jerk."

"Yes, that is a common sentiment."

Loki rolled his eyes. "If it's any consolation, we can restore his mind on Asgard when this is all over."

"Erik, it's okay." Cautious in her movement, Jane tugged on Doctor Selvig's sleeve. "He's here to help. He's already done a lot for us."

Doctor Selvig remained wary, his eyes narrowed at Loki, but he did not seek to protest. He seemed to have enough trust in Jane to accept Loki's presence, though he did maintain a rather notable distance from him.

As soon as there was some semblance of peace amongst us all, we gathered together in the centre of the abode where Jane proceeded to explain the circumstances to Darcy and her 'intern' named Ian. "Malekith is going to use the Aether at a place where all the nine worlds are connected."

Although Doctor Selvig was sitting by the wall, as far away from Loki as possible, he was still able to contribute to the conversation. "For each additional world, the power will increase exponentially."

Loki nodded. "Not one of the Nine Realms will be spared."

"But the alignment is only temporary," Thor said. "He must be in the right place at the right time."

While most of us fell into a contemplative silence, Darcy looked left and right and said, "Well, how do we know where that is?"

After a moment, Doctor Selvig grabbed a roll of parchment before standing from his seat—still without trousers—and hurrying to the table amidst us. Sweeping the objects from the surface, he unfurled the parchment to reveal a map. "This has happened before, and the ancients were there to see it. All the great constructions made use of the gravitational effects of the Convergence." With a writing utensil and a ruler in hand, he leaned over the large sheet. "And they left us a map."

He went about circling various locations in red. Using the ruler, he began connecting them with intersecting lines. "These are all coordinates taking us... here."

The last line was drawn, and he pointed to the heart of it all: an area of London called Greenwich.

Little conversation was had after that. Little conversation was needed. We would meet Malekith in battle no matter what came.

We were swift to gather our belongings, equipping our gear and collecting the humans' various instruments. By the time we deemed ourselves prepared, the sun had risen, and the Convergence had become much too near for comfort.

Thor took to the skies to venture ahead to Greenwich; in truth, he might have been the only one among us who could contend with Malekith, even if for a short while. Loki and I were forced to travel with the humans. We piled into Jane's car where I was compressed between Loki and Ian. Matters were made worse when Doctor Selvig insisted we bring his gravimetric devices.

Once we started towards Greenwich, steeping in a tense silence, I cast Loki a glimpse. To say that he looked none too happy would've been an incredible understatement.

To our great fortune, the trip was short-lived. In the heart of Greenwich, we climbed out of the vehicle to gaze upon four buildings standing adjacent to one another. Down the middle, where the grass grew green, Darcy and Ian set out to employ the gravimetric poles. While Jane and Doctor Selvig sought higher ground, Loki and I remained amongst the anterior of the buildings, ducking between white stone columns.

Neither of us spoke as we watched Darcy and Ian scurry about the lawn, hammering Selvig's devices into the ground.

When the sky began to rend open, giving us a view of what I thought to be Vanaheim, a chill frolicked down my spine. "Do you know what it is the humans are attempting to do?" I asked. "Will it help?"

"Jane Foster hopes she'll be able to manipulate the anomalies caused by the Convergence," Loki said, nodding towards the aperture above. "The effects of which are now clearly upon us."

I canted my head as Darcy urged Ian to work faster. "But do you think it will work?"

Loki responded with a derisive snort.

My brow lifted. "I suppose not?"

"I don't have a particular amount of confidence in these mortals." His focus shifted to Darcy and Ian, who were scrambling to complete what would have been the simplest of tasks for Loki, no doubt. "Though I cannot deny the advantage if they should succeed."

The sound of water stirring at the far end of the building complex wrenched on my attention. Loki straightened, his hand pressed against the nearest column. Side by side, we scanned the river that had remained silent and still until now. The bare outline of Malekith's ship appeared first before its black metal shell manifested in full, plowing into stone and land alike.

Knowing full well that we were about to face Malekith and the full might of the Aether, I felt the sudden urge to run, as every other mortal in the vicinity was doing. But then Loki laid a hand on my arm, keeping me from losing the last vestiges of my courage. "This is just as we expected," he said. "You persuaded me before—we must see this through."

I relaxed ever so slightly, adjusting my shield and unsheathing my sword. The massive ship soon came to a halt, a dozen yards from where we stood. A lift descended the length of the vessel, slowing to a stop a the very bottom. It opened, splitting apart like a cocoon, the lower half sliding downwards to form a ramp.

Malekith emerged from the lift, a score of Dark Elves in his wake. He strode forth, across the grass, glancing up at the fissure in the sky. Right on cue, Thor soared from above and landed opposite Malekith, the stone pathway cracking beneath his feet.

With his Dark Elves flanking him, Malekith marched to meet Thor in the centre of the square. The Aether flared around him like a demon stretching its tentacles, and he struck Thor hard enough to knock him to the ground. As we had all agreed upon earlier, Loki and I waited and watched.

Malekith thrashed Thor again with a black-red blast from the Aether. He wielded it like an extension of himself, the powerful swirl encircling him. Even so, it could not deflect the strength of Mjolnir. With a mighty swing, Thor tossed the mythical hammer, the blow so powerful that it sent Malekith flying backwards into his underlings. He continued tumbling, bouncing off the ground before disappearing from view. Winding Mjolnir, Thor soared on high and followed after Malekith beyond the side of the edifice we'd taken shelter within.

I exchanged a look with Loki, and we both peered upwards at the tear in the sky. It was growing larger now, round in shape. Another aperture opened above it. And another. They shifted slowly, closer together. "The Convergence will reach its peak soon," Loki said. "A few more minutes, or so I estimate by the rate of movement." He glanced at the Dark Elves, who were advancing towards Darcy and Ian. "At the least, we can revel in the joys of battle until then."

The moment the final gravimetric device was positioned, the two humans scrambled to escape what I assumed to be the parameters. Several long seconds passed, and nothing seemed to happen. Cursing under his breath, Loki withdrew a dagger, prepared to assail the Dark Elves. But I tugged on his arm, keeping him from stepping into the open. "Wait," I told him. "Give them a moment."

My faith in them proved justified when a field of energy unfurled from one of the devices, causing at least five Dark Elves to vanish before our very eyes.

I could not withhold my laugh. "It actually worked."

Loki gave me a skeptical look. "Is that all?"

At first, I frowned at his lack of confidence. But his dismay was not unwarranted.

The remaining Dark Elves had begun to fan out, a number of them stealing between the columns and turning corners to seek our human allies. When Doctor Selvig's devices sat idle far longer than was necessary, I came to assume they were not operating as they should. "I suppose that would be our signal," I said.

Smirk in place, Loki leaned to peer around the column we'd hidden behind. With the twist of his hand, he cast an illusion of us darting after the Dark Elves from the opposite side of the stretch. It was peculiar to see a precise image of myself meandering about, armed with a sword and shield, long red hair billowing in the wind. At any rate, it proved effective, for the Dark Elves took notice and chased after our duplicates.

Meeting my gaze, Loki nodded, and I followed him from our cover. The Dark Elves were too preoccupied with pursuing our illusions to notice us approaching from behind. Loki reached them first, grabbing the rearmost Elf by the face and slashing his throat. The next nearest Elf made to turn, but I lunged, stabbing upwards into the exposed underarm between the sections of his armour. My sword met his heart, and for one searing moment, I was all too aware that Frigga had died in the same manner. Pulling Silvertongue free, I looked down at his body, a strange sickness roiling through me.

But I had little time to dwell on it. The illusions had dissipated, and the remaining Dark Elves turned on us, weapons leading. A few among them had firearms, forcing me to slow and block their blasts. Loki made certain to dispatch them first, casting an illusion or two to draw their fire.

It felt rather like a dance, Loki and I moving in tandem, tearing through the group of Dark Elves with a swing and a swift step. Of course, not all were easily felled. I struggled to stave off a sword with my own blade, the Dark Elf behind it half a foot taller than I. Both weapons were driven into the ground, my strength unable to overcome that of my adversary. Worse than that, he proved swifter by throwing a punch I never anticipated. The blow hit me in the jaw, my teeth clacking from the force. I stumbled to the right, dazed, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

Hefting my shield, I hindered a strike that was meant for my neck. Jaw clenched, I pulled my sword free from the soil and swung wide, the Elf stepping out of reach just in time. In that moment of distraction, I was not mindful at the enemy at my back.

From behind, a spear point found its way beneath my shoulder guard. I cried out, my flesh rent, blood spilling down my side. As I fell to my knees, I saw my adversary lifting his sword above his head to bring it down upon me.

I could hear no more than the pounding of my heart, felt no more than the throbbing pain and the blood pouring along the inside of my armour. Despite the numb disarray of my mind, I pushed past the agony of the weapon still stuck in my shoulder blade and used both hands to propel whatever magic I had at the enemy before me. Fuelled perhaps by my ire or desperation, I pushed past the stab of pain in my chest, and an abrupt flash burst in his face. It was barely enough to make him stagger back, but it was all I needed.

I sprang up and swung at his throat. Feeling the sprinkle of blood on my bare arms, I did not have to look to know I'd hit my target. Agony tore through me again—the spear had been yanked from my shoulder. When I turned to face my latest assailant, I saw that he'd been grabbed from behind by Loki who broke his neck in a single twist.

Once the last Dark Elf collapsed in a dead heap, my legs gave way. My graceless efforts to enkindle my magic drained me, and I felt the injury to my shoulder pulsating, sweat beading my brow. It wasn't as bad as a jorgandr venom burn. It wasn't even as bad as the arrow wound I'd suffered long ago. But I felt so... exhausted. My eyes grew so heavy. I wondered if I could rest now.

"Eirlys!"

I blinked, slow to realize that Loki was kneeling in front of me, one hand curved around the nape of my neck. He had a gash across his brow, blood trickling into his eye. _It should heal in less than an hour_ , I thought distantly. His brow cinched, fingers unsteady as he traced over the laceration on my shoulder. I hissed at his touch, my reaction prompting him to remove his hands. "I'm all right," I said, knowing full well that whatever reassurances I gave were not particularly convincing. "Norns, what I wouldn't give to be able to heal this wound..."

With the faintest of sighs, he tilted my head up to peer into my eyes. "At the least, you're still coherent."

I clutched onto his arm, barely registering his words. "How fares our chances of surviving this day?"

"That depends on the Convergence."

Together, we looked upwards to see the Convergence had begun. It was just nearing its peak now. Perhaps it was even passing it. From our angle, I could not say for certain. But wishful thinking made me believe the Convergence had already ended.

Shifting my regard to Loki, I intended to ask if he believed the same. The opportunity to do so evaporated when our surroundings vanished—rather, we disappeared and reappeared in a different location.

I glanced to the right to see Jane and Doctor Selvig standing over us, eyes wide. Grimacing, Jane lowered the device in her hands. "Oh! Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Footsteps thundered upon the stone floor; the Dark Elves charging at us from the left preempted further apologies. Dagger in hand, Loki sprang up and struck. The celerity with which he slew our enemies seemed to frighten the humans, if their open-mouthed stares were of any indication.

As soon as the last of them were felled, Loki returned to my side and helped my to my feet. The whole world spun, yet I did not falter. He would not let me, at any rate. "The Convergence may be passing," he said, "but we must defeat Malekith still. He will prove a nuisance even without the power of the Convergence to avail him."

"Jane!"

Darcy and Ian hurried to join us, giving the dead Elves a wide berth. Both appeared rather flushed when they stopped beside Jane. "We've, uh... there aren't any more bad guys," Ian said.

Not bothering to offer a response, Loki revolved on his heel and started back towards the square in which we'd slain over a dozen Dark Elves. I stayed close to his side, his hand at my elbow keeping me balanced as we walked.

We came to a standstill at the row of ivory columns, our gazes falling upon the lone figure in the centre of the field. Malekith was clambering to his feet, unchallenged. He glared up at the sky where the Nine Realms were shifting out of alignment.

"Stay here with the mortals," Loki told me.

I leaned my uninjured shoulder on the nearest column without complaint, though I could not ignore the dread writhing its way through my heart.

Seconds after Loki entered the square with loping strides, Thor came from above, landing on the grass just beside him. The brothers exchanged a look before moving to wage against Malekith. "You're too late," Thor called to him. "The Convergence had ended, Malekith. Accept this defeat now and perhaps your life can be spared."

Loki cast him a dubious look. "You're not honestly suggesting we spare his life, are you?"

Thor never had a chance to retort as Malekith faced them, the Aether swirling about his hands. "You may be correct," Malekith admitted. "My plans have been thwarted, but I will not surrender. You—your people—have taken everything from me, and I will stop at nothing to respond in kind."

Primed for a fight, Thor hoisted Mjolnir higher, an electric charge stirring the atmosphere.

However, it wasn't a fight that Malekith sought. "I was told an old friend has been buried deep beneath the surface of this world."

Ignoring his words, Thor barrelled towards Malekith. In the blink of an eye, Loki threw his dagger to delay the Dark Elf long enough for Thor to reach him.

But it was too late.

Malekith dropped to one knee, hands braced against the ground. A blast from the Aether tore through the air, the force of which sent Thor and Loki flying backwards, hitting the ground yards from Malekith. The Aether rose up into a furious tempest, fuelled by the nearness of the Convergence, even if it was no longer at its peak. A deathly red storm roiled around us, obstructing our view of Malekith and everything else in the surrounding area.

The high winds quickly became too much for me to endure. With my grip on the column lost, I fell back into someone's hold—Darcy's, I soon realized. She and Jane dragged me backwards to shelter behind another pair of columns. From my position of relative safety, I could see the bare outlines of Thor and Loki rising, struggling against the gale, fighting to reach Malekith.

In the end, all of our efforts amounted to nothing.

The ground fractured, the very sound of it deafening, like the breaking of a mountaintop echoing throughout a mountain range. My human allies crouched around me; nearest to me, Darcy ducked down and pressed her hands over her ears.

There was an enormous rumble as the world beneath us shook and trembled. The surface of Midgard split open with one final _CRACK_. As the Aether stopped swirling, it drove itself deep into the ground, seeping into the world.

Once the roaring wind stopped, I looked to find Thor and Loki backing away from the opening in the ground, steps uncharacteristically unsteady for them both. And they were right to scramble back, for no weapon of ours would have been able to contend with what rose from the depths of Midgard.

A hand— _no, a claw_ —came bursting through the dirt, glowing bright with flames. It latched onto the grass, burning every last blade. From my vantage, I thought the claw looked to be the size of Jane's car, if not larger, and that notion alone made my heart drop straight into my stomach. The cleft opened wider when the claw tightened, using the earth as leverage.

A pair of horns came first, then a head drenched in fire. Massive armoured shoulders broke through next, the sheer size and strength behind the exertion upturning the walls of the buildings on either side. It seemed like an endless moment as the rest of the creature climbed out, an inferno of metal and red flesh.

The second hand, accompanied by a sword, was the last to leave the dirt. Not a sword exactly. Just the hilt of a sword. Nevertheless, it did not diminish the utter terror that stood before us, towering over the buildings in the vicinity and beyond. I had to crane my neck to take in all of the colossus that Malekith had drawn from below.

There were few things in all the Nine Realms that every being feared. They stemmed from legends, myths, distant and nearly forgotten history. They were the few that we whispered about with the greatest of reverence and terror. And, it seemed, one of them stood before us now. I knew, without a shred of doubt, that this was Surtur, King of Muspelheim and the God of Flame.

"At long last, I have been freed." His voice was a resonant, thunderous sound so loud that it strained my eardrums. I had to clasp my palms over my ears when he peered down at Thor and Loki, broken sword held aloft, and said, "At long last, I shall be granted retribution."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And here we verge off into the AU once more. I know the appearance of Surtur may seem a little unclear at this moment, but we'll get into that in the next chapter.

Don't forget to leave a review, even if you only have a few seconds to spare!


	6. Twilight of the Gods

**Author's Note** : As always, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and alerted!

And now, on with the show!

* * *

 **SIX**

* * *

 _twilight of the gods_

* * *

An immense heat emanated from the colossal fire demon that stood two hundred feet above us, unmoving still. Even as I stayed hidden behind the marble columns alongside our human allies, the unbearable heat swept over us, overtaking us in waves. Though Surtur eventually canted his head to one side, he did little more than that. Was he staring at Thor and Loki? I could not be certain, for his eyes were deep, empty hollows of flame.

Thor and Loki appeared equally as uncertain. They did not dare move, perhaps out of fear of drawing Surtur's ire. For the most part, the demon's sword was gone, but there still remained a jagged edge, one long and sharp enough to slay anyone. Posing even the barest threat would have surely invited a swift and fiery death. Or perhaps it was a matter of pride. Even if they had no chance of engaging Surtur in a fight, they would never flee.

My breath caught in my throat when Thor poised himself to strike. Loki endured at his side, hand raised, prepared to cast a spell. What good either action would do, I hadn't any idea.

Yet neither of them had to carry out a fruitless assault, in the end.

A bright, shimmering light descended from above, striking the ground between them and Surtur. In the midst of the beam, Odin and countless Asgardian warriors landed on the surface of Midgard, facing down Surtur as if he were any other foe. To my astonishment, Surtur seemed to recoil at the sight of them.

"Odin Borson," Surtur said, his voice shaking the air. "I have waited millennia to face you once more. Too long have I toiled in the heart of Midgard, taking heed of these mortal wretches scurrying above." He brought his broken blade forward, pointing down at Odin. "You have aged greatly, _All-Father_. Now, King Bor cannot save you. This realm—and every other—will be mine. My children will thrive in the endless blaze."

The All-Father did not hesitate to unleash the might of Gungnir upon him. "I have defeated you before. You shall be defeated again."

Surtur took a step back, bracing his arms before him to block the blasts. "Heed my vow, son of Bor, the flames will consume everything once and for all. I shall see this universe burn!"

Odin pressed his attack, a steady beam surging forth. While Surtur roared at the assault, he shifted in place, slicing through the air behind him with his broken sword. The space somehow wavered, an unknown magic rippling in the wake of his blade. Without another word, he took one tremendous step forward, vanishing into what appeared to be a tear in the veil between worlds.

The moment the demon receded from view, so did the strange tremor in the atmosphere.

As the smoke and ash began to clear, we were granted a view of Malekith and his Dark Elves taking to the skies in their ship, already out of our reach. Rising higher, the spacefaring ship dematerialized, fading from view until it could be seen no more.

To say the following silence was deafening could not convey how truly terrible it was.

An eternity seemed to pass before the All-Father's command broke through the heavy quietude. "Arrest them."

Mere yards from where Surtur had risen from the depths of Midgard, Thor and Loki surrendered to the Einherjar, letting their weapons fall to the ground. Mjolnir struck the dirt with a dull and disheartening thud. Extending his arm, Odin summoned and seized the mystical weapon, while the Einherjar darted forth to place Thor and Loki in manacles.

Another half-dozen Einherjar came around the ash-covered columns to apprehend me. In response, Darcy and Jane huddled closer in some futile attempt to shield me—an unconscious reaction, for we all knew that they could not stop the Einherjar if they tried.

"It's all right." I climbed to my feet, leaning heavily on the nearest column all the while. "They will not harm me."

Once my human friends backed away, one of the Einherjar came forward to grasp both of my wrists. I grit my teeth; every movement of my left arm sent a jolt of pain through me. "Apologies, my lady," he said. Then they took my shield, as well as my sword, before fastening manacles around my wrists in front of me, the metal contraption _clack_ ing in the quiet as it tightened.

Another among them made to approach Jane. I was on the verge of protesting when Odin stepped in. "Leave the mortal be. As she no longer carries the Aether, she need not be concerned with."

I met Jane's worried gaze. Her outstretched hand indicated that she wished to object to our being taken prisoner, to stall them in some way, but she had to have known that nothing she or any of us said would change a single thing.

Wordless, they escorted me from the shadows of the building, into the smoke-laden air. With each breath, I could smell the fire—the scorched earth and blackened grass.

Thor and Loki stood captive atop the Bifrost rune, encircled by a score of Einherjar to bar them from any attempts at escape. Not that there would have been much point. Surtur had made his return. He made his threat. We likely did not have long to live.

With an Einherjar on my left and another on my right, they conducted me towards the Bifrost rune. Both had a hand on either elbow to keep me from falling, and I probably would have if not for them. Behind me, a murmur of protests sounded from our human allies at last. Though I could not understand what they were saying, I was not surprised that they spoke out. They had no idea what was happening. Perhaps they did not grasp the enormity of our defeat.

On Loki's right, the Einherjar brought me to a halt. I felt numb, my limbs quivering as we waited. After several long seconds, I lifted my gaze to find that of Loki. Brow furrowed, he did not have the audacity to speak. He knew as well as I what Surtur signified. And no sardonic remarks or slights to Odin were going to help. So he stayed silent.

Thor, on the other hand, struggled against the hold of the Einherjar around him. He strained to look over my head, in the direction of Jane and the others. "Jane!"

She might have shouted his name in response, but I could never be certain.

The moment Odin stepped foot on the Bifrost rune, a blinding light tore through the clouds to convey us back to Asgard.

We streaked through the stars, past many worlds, in a polychromatic stream. And all I could think now was, _How long will it be before everything burns?_

Confined by the Einherjar still, we stepped out of the radiance, stumbling forwards as we entered the Bifrost observatory. The first thing I noticed was Heimdall's absence. He would have confessed to treason hours ago. I wondered how he and the rest of our friends fared. Would they all be tried for treason? The punishment for such a sentence was death. But perhaps that was of little consequence, given the predicament the Nine Realms now faced.

The Asgardians led Thor from the observatory first, Loki second. I followed last, eyes downcast. When my feet touched the Rainbow Bridge, I saw that there were caravans expecting us—three separate ones. Thor and Loki were marched into the first two, while I lingered behind at the rear. As I approached my own designated caravan, I was surprised to find Marawen waiting for me.

She looked at me, expression stern—but that was nothing out of the ordinary. "Heimdall sent word that you have been injured."

That was all the explanation I received. Upon meeting me halfway, she proceeded to remove my left shoulder guard. It fell to the Rainbow Bridge, splattered in blood and forgotten. I paid it no mind; it was damaged and needed replacing, though I had to wonder if I would ever have the opportunity to replace it.

When her rough fingers pressed against the wound, I could not refrain from crying out. Despite her ungentle handling of the open laceration, her healing magic worked with great celerity. The bleeding ceased, and the flesh sewed together, leaving nary a blemish behind. She didn't speak after that, which was, again, typical of her manner.

Once she parted ways with me, the Einherjar tugged me forward by the chain between my hands. I climbed into the back of the caravan, a horse-pulled wagon covered in a cardinal red canvas. My escort placed me on a bench, my bound hands resting in my lap. Three Einherjar sat opposite me, armed with spears and swords.

Not one word was uttered as we started up the Rainbow Bridge. Through the occasional flutter of the canvas, I caught sight of the Bifrost observatory shrinking in the distance. A number of Einherjar remained at the entrance, keeping watch over the deactivated mechanism.

As we gained speed, the caravan rocked to and fro. The sound of horse hooves striking the bridge filled the otherwise silent air. A creeping heat crawled along the back of my neck when I met the stares of the Einherjar around me. The extended, agonizing silence did little to help. It seemed no one knew what to say in the face of such grave circumstances.

Heart heavy, I lowered my eyes to watch the short chain between my cuffs sway with every movement of the caravan. It pained me to know I'd played a hand in all of this. That somehow, in some way, I was responsible for the return of Surtur. _If we had stayed in Asgard, would we have had a chance against Malekith?_ I wondered. _If we had listened to Odin, might we have protected the Aether at the cost of many Asgardian lives?_

I felt sick, meditating on our unforgivable failure. People were going to die. I knew, with absolute certainty, that many would lose their lives regardless of whether or not we would find a way to stop Surtur. And if we could not... well, there would not be much hope for anyone in the Nine Realms.

As harrowing as it was to know that countless lives teetered on the edge of a knife, my own selfish sorrow was quick to overtake my thoughts. After all Loki and I had suffered, after all of our efforts to fight and find our way back to one another, we were facing another threat to the Nine Realms. Hope of survival was little more than a flicker. _We had so little time together_ , I thought. _Months. All we've ever had were months_.

The caravan jolted when we came to a stop. Before I could even lift my head, the Einherjar were on their feet, looming over me. They grabbed both my arms and hauled me from the caravan without the solicitude they afforded me earlier now that my shoulder was healed. My legs quavered beneath me the instant I stood upon the thick stone laid at the foot of the palace.

The grand entrance opened at the All-Father's approach, and we three prisoners were steered over the threshold by our Einherjar guard. Thor marched ahead, glancing back every so often as if to ensure Loki and I were still present. Unlike his brother, Loki kept his eyes forward, head held high in whatever show of dignity he sought to employ.

In the entrance hall, Einherjar and healers hurried about, still seeking to recover from the siege. But when they saw us, every one of them stopped and stared. I imagined it must have been quite a sight to behold: their crown prince in manacles, being led through the palace. Loki in chains was perhaps less of a shock. Amongst the crowd of onlookers, I spotted Sigrun and Gaila, fellow healers from my days as an apprentice. They watched me with wide red eyes and pale faces.

Never before had the journey through the north wing and into the throne room seemed so daunting. Silence reigned as we continued on the path to the throne, striding beneath the beams of sunlight. Past debris, broken columns, and a second set of stairs, we came to the throne itself at last.

Another dozen Einherjar stood guard while three people knelt at the foot of the dais: Fandral, Sif, and Volstagg. Standing above them, halfway up the steps, was Heimdall. Two Einherjar flanked him, their weapons at the ready—Heimdall was as much a prisoner as the rest of us. Even so, Odin had respect enough not to force him to his knees.

All in the throne room watched, unspeaking as we were brought forward, the three of us joining the other prisoners in a row. When Odin moved to stand before us, at the foot of the dais, one of the Einherjar bade us to kneel.

I complied, my boots scraping against the stone as I lowered myself to the ground. After a rather lengthy moment of hesitation, Thor also knelt at Odin's feet. Loki, on the other hand, did not. He didn't say anything. He simply stared up at the All-Father, eyes narrowed. The nearest Einherjar was quick to kick at the back of his legs, forcing him to submit.

The seemingly endless hush stretched on, and I suspected Odin was allowing it to do so with great purpose. I was left with my thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over in my mind. A sickness roiled in my stomach as the weight of my shame continued to grow.

With his heavy gaze bearing down upon his son and heir, Odin broke the terrible silence at long last, "I expected such treachery from Loki, but never from you."

On my right, Loki's head snapped up. He cast Odin a searing glare, but he would have no opportunity to let fly his ridicule as I suspected he wished to do.

"An act of treason and failure of this magnitude would warrant your executions under normal circumstances," Odin declared.

I shuddered at the very notion—would all our deaths be granted by the swing of an axe?

"However, these are not normal circumstances." Leaning heavily on his spear, Odin paced parallel to our lineup and looked down upon me. "Tell me, Lady Eirlys. Do you know the prophecy foretold by the seer Valdis?"

Brow furrowing, I bowed my head. "Yes."

"Recite it for us."

It was an old prophecy dating back over nine thousand years, gleaned by a Vanir seer in the form of our traditionally vague visions. But visions such as hers were always considered with grave respect. Many Vanir were encouraged to remember and revere all that she had seen. And so I had. "'With the deaths of kings and queens, fire and darkness shall consume the Nine Realms,'" I said, my voice wavering more than I would've preferred. "'And when all lays in ruin, from the ashes of old shall be born a new dominion.' Valdis claimed it to be the Twilight of the Gods. Ragnarök. The ending of all that we know."

A whisper of alarm surged through the throne room, as though the prophecy confirmed and reinforced everything that was already suspected. _With the deaths of kings and queens_. My first thought was of Frigga, whose death still burned near to my heart. I then considered King Tylock of the Light Elves; he had died not long ago—a year past. I surmised the deaths of a king and a queen were the reason why Odin asked me to recite this particular prophecy. There were a multitude of prophecies foretelling Ragnarök, and every one of them had two common themes: fire and the deaths of untold numbers across the Nine Realms.

"It is my belief that Surtur and Malekith will attempt to do just that: consume the Nine Realms with fire and darkness. After all, Surtur has vowed to do so." The All-Father turned from me and paced adjacent to the steps, striding past Heimdall. "If we are to have any hope of preventing Ragnarök from coming to pass, we must work together to avert this crisis."

I wondered if it were possible to avert foretold events, as I had often wondered in the past. Given the imprecise telling of the vision that surely came with being retold over nine thousand years, I held a glimmer of hope that we could find a way to stop it from happening.

"My king, forgive the impertinence," Heimdall said, "but how are we to face a creature such as Surtur, let alone both him and Malekith?"

For one soundless moment, Odin turned to ascend the steps of the dais and stood at the base of the throne, above us all. "Some among you may know of my history with Surtur," he uttered. "Over three millennia ago, Surtur stirred from his throne on Muspelheim. He attacked Midgard in the hopes of claiming it for himself while my father, King Bor, remained deep in slumber. It was left to my brothers, Vili and Ve, and I to preclude the threat that was Surtur—the threat of Ragnarök."

The All-Father stood tall and gazed across the throne room with an unseeing eye. "During the battle, my brothers and I were forced to fight Surtur alone. With our combined strength, we shattered Surtur's weapon: the Twilight Sword." His grip on Gungnir tightened as he pressed on, "In retaliation, Surtur struck down Ve. As the battle waged on, he then took the life of Vili. With both my brothers slain, I weathered the conflict alone until Bor awoke at last, and he cast Surtur deep into Midgard, imprisoning him there for all eternity."

He shifted in place, looking down on us. "At the least, Surtur was meant to remain there for all eternity."

Thor moved to speak, "Father—"

A single look was all that was needed to silence him. "There are ways to impede Surtur. To do so, each of us must fully understand his intent," Odin stated, moving to eye Loki in particular. "Considering the time you spent in the darker corners of the Nine Realms, I suspect you are more knowledgable of the Twilight Sword than most of us assembled here. Tell us what you know."

Jaw clenched, Loki straightened and all but glowered at Odin. Nevertheless, he deigned to provide an answer. "The sword holds power enough to tear open the fabric of space itself—passageways between worlds. Wielding only a portion of the sword, he will have but a fraction of that capability. But with the Convergence still so near, the veil remains blurred, allowing him easier movement across the Cosmos."

Odin gave a deep, affirming nod. "In its current state, the Twilight Sword does not hold much of a threat. It was shattered, the shards scattered throughout the Nine Realms. Should it be made whole once more, Surtur will be able to wield the Eternal Flame, setting the universe afire."

At the other end of our row, Volstagg cleared his throat, curiosity apparently getting the better of him. "Your Majesty, if I may ask... why were the shards not destroyed earlier?"

"My father believed the shards posed no threat," the All-Father replied. "Furthermore, there was nothing that could be done. We could not find a way to destroy the shards, and many were left be. Several were given to trusted allies to be protected. In our current circumstances, we must find a way to destroy them or keep them from Surtur's reach."

"There is a dying star in the Gamma Centauri star system," Heimdall remarked. "With the Bifrost, we may be able to send shards into its core. If the heat cannot destroy them, at the least it will render them irretrievable."

Turning to the gatekeeper, Odin inclined his head. "Agreed." He then paced farther up the stairs, to the throne of Asgard. "I have concluded Surtur's intent to be this: he will attempt to gather as many shards as possible to reforge the Twilight Sword. I doubt Surtur can gather every shard. However, the sword will gain power with every piece. When he is prepared, Surtur will make a vie for the Eternal Flame, which has been kept in our vault for these many long millennia."

"Are you certain Surtur and Malekith will ally with one another?" Thor asked.

With a great, heaving sigh, Odin sat in the seat of his throne. To me, he looked utterly spent, which was never a good sign. _The Odinsleep must be upon him_. But he continued to stave it off, for it was in times like these that the Nine Realms needed him most.

"Both Surtur and Malekith are creatures from the dark days, a time before the birth of this universe. Neither was glad to see the darkness recede. Together, they will be calculating and exact," Odin replied. "They will seek the shards to reforge the Twilight Sword. We must stop them before that happens."

It seemed our conference with the king was at an end, for Odin waved his hand, signalling the Einherjar to approach. "For now, you will all be confined to your chambers," he proclaimed. "You have disobeyed my direct orders. As such, you have committed crimes of treason. These dire circumstances have spared your lives, but you cannot be granted your freedom."

Then he turned towards Heimdall, brow wrinkling in weary disappointment. "Even you, gatekeeper, are not exempt from justice. But that must wait until after Ragnarök has been averted. As it stands, you will be reinstated to the keep watch over the Rainbow Bridge, for none can operate the Bifrost quite like you can."

Although Heimdall spoke not a word, he bowed his head, his oft stoic expression betraying his shame.

With little else to say to rest of us, Odin addressed his Einherjar, "Return the remaining prisoners to their chambers. I would speak with my son."

A pair of Einherjar grasped my arms, dragging me to my feet. They did the same to Loki and my friends, save for Thor. It seemed the All-Father would have private words with him, though Heimdall too remained unmoving and unharried. I would have no opportunity to bear witness to any part of their exchange, as the Einherjar promptly escorted the rest of us from the throne room.

We were led back the way we came, through the north wing and into the entrance hall. Loki and his own entourage of six guards strode at the fore, while Fandral, Sif, and Volstagg trailed behind me. I cast a look over my shoulder to see Fandral frowning in silence. He'd always had a smile and a jape for even the most severe of situations. But not this time.

In the corridor of apartments, my friends were ushered into their chambers. I never had a chance to share a single word with Sif. I could hear Volstagg asking if he could see his wife and children. Whether or not the Einherjar answered him, I did not know.

Loki and I were the only ones taken up to the royal apartments. With Loki ahead of me, they guided him into his chambers first, his hands still bound. When the Einherjar drew him into the chamber, Loki looked back at me. My gaze met his for the briefest of moments before he passed from sight.

I was taken to my chambers, across from that of Loki. It felt strange to be kept prisoner in my own chambers. In a place I considered home. Never before had it seemed so... empty. Unfamiliar. Isolated.

From my heart to my limbs, I felt numb.

Swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I outstretched my arms for the Einherjar to remove my shackles. They clacked and rotated, freeing my hands at last. Most of the guards left the room afterwards, though two remained stationed by the door to keep watch over me. I could not be sure why. Perhaps Odin feared we would try to leave and outrun the devastation that was about to engulf the entirety of the Nine Realms. And yet everyone knew that was not an option.

With a shaky breath, I crossed the sitting chamber and perched on the window seat. Slouching, I rubbed at my wrists before burying my face in my hands. We were standing on the verge of Ragnarök. I could not keep from wondering if my actions—our actions—played a hand in its emergence. It was impossible to stop that thought from recurring in my mind.

Time crept by in a slow, agonizing stillness.

I kicked off my boots, unfastened my armour, and unbuckled my belt pouch, letting them all fall to the floor. Sighing heavily, I curled up on the window seat, arms wrapped around my knees. The Asgardian sea sat gloomy under the wintery sky. The days were growing colder, and I swore I saw a few flakes of snow descend from the clouds—a rare sight in Asgard.

The door to my sitting chamber opened once more. I looked round to see another Einherjar enter. He paid me no mind at first, only turning to my two guards to pass on a command. They nodded in unison before exiting. Eyes narrowed, I watched the lone Einherjar close the door and take his place to its left. I stared at him for a time, my brow dipping when he maintained his watch alone.

A minuscule smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I rose, padding over to the bronze desk and leaning back against it. "I don't know why, but your skill at concealment never fails to amaze."

His head canted to one side while he paced closer, stopping little more than a yard away. "How did you surmise that it was me?"

I pushed myself from the desk and approached, the cold marble underfoot sending shivers through me. "It was the way you moved. Always so fluid and precise."

After a moment, he smirked. "I suppose I could have conjured the illusion of a second Einherjar, but they were too witless to notice the difference, at any rate." It was odd to look upon him and hear him speak. He did not sound like Loki. Neither did he look like Loki. He had the face of a stranger, yet I could see Loki in him. In his eyes, especially. In the way they softened when he gazed upon me.

"How did you escape their notice?" I asked, leaning around him to peek at the door. "Did they not have guards in your chambers?"

"They did. As far as they know, I upturned my desk and retired to my bedchamber in a blind rage," he said. "I had six Einherjar in my chambers. It appears Odin retains little trust in me, even after everything we have done at his behest these past months. They have been little more than a series of conditions for my freedom. I grow weary of it."

I frowned, doubtful that Odin had truly intended to exert such control over Loki. But I did understand his fear. It was not difficult to believe that Odin would try to constrain him. Even I felt the weight of Loki's crimes still; it had grown lighter, to be sure, but it was not something to be forgotten. For Odin, it would be his responsibility to ensure that history did not repeat itself. Sending Loki on endless errands to keep him from mischief was not so farfetched.

"But, in some small way, he must trust you," I told him. "He did send us to fulfill tasks as his envoy, did he not?"

His scowl only deepened. "Yes, confidences of little worth."

Though I wanted to sigh and shake my head, I could not dismiss his suspicions entirely. Loki had been a prisoner in Asgard's dungeons, sentenced to waste the remainder of his life away in a sparse white room with nothing but books to keep him company. In the face of all the good he had done since then, he'd never _actually_ been released by order of the realm. Loki seemed to believe that Odin begrudged him for it.

"Do you think they'll lock us in the dungeons once this is over?" I asked. "If we all somehow survive."

The question garnered a smirk from him. "Perhaps they will allow the two of us a shared cell."

The notion might have been amusing on any other day. But not today. Being sentenced for treason and facing the coming of Ragnarök must have further decimated my sense of humour. "If... if we do see this crisis to its end"—I tried not to let my voice waver—"I fear Odin might call for our execution." _Your execution_ , was what I truly thought to say. But I did not want to encourage that particular enmity between Loki and the All-Father. "We will have even more reason to run."

He met my gaze, silent for but a moment, before he simply said, "I know."

"Nevertheless, we must focus now on stopping Surtur," I murmured, crossing my arms. "Else the Cosmos be consumed by fire and darkness—we would have nowhere to run to."

Loki inclined his head. "Yes, I daresay I'm not likely to forge a bargain with Malekith now."

Perhaps I was not so bereft of humour after all, for a chuff of laughter escaped me.

That flicker of mirth died on my lips when the door to my sitting chamber opened once again. Loki—still disguised—straightened and faced the door, donning the stiff stance of an Einherjar on guard. Heart twisting, I sidestepped away from Loki and watched Odin enter my chambers, four Einherjar in tow.

I tried my best not to cast another look in Loki's direction, as he maintained his facade as an Einherjar. But it made no difference, in the end. "You would be more a fool than I thought if you believed such a disguise could deceive me, Loki," Odin said. "No Einherjar would seek a private audience with the Lady Eirlys."

Despite the clench of his jaw, Loki allowed the illusion to dispel. In seconds, he stood before me, dressed in his leather garb, looking just as he had earlier in the day. Lifting his chin, he levelled Odin with a less than subtle glare. Muscles taut, I let my gaze flit over the All-Father's stoic and unchanged expression, uncertain if he'd heard our prior conversation.

As Odin crossed the chamber, he gave me the short bow of his head. Fighting my hesitation, I reciprocated in kind.

"You were not in your chambers; I suspected I would find you here." He turned to face Loki, impassive features not once shifting. "Frigga's affection for you never waned, and I will continue to respect her wishes. Moreover, our chances of surviving this ordeal are greatly improved with your cooperation. These are the reasons why I do not return you to the dungeons."

"Such tact." Loki crossed his arms and scoffed. "There is no need to pretend. You would have my head if you could."

With a frown, Odin averted his gaze to the ground, his shoulders rising and falling in a deep breath. "Believe what you will, Loki, but I will not condone further bloodshed in the halls of this palace. Even if it were to be yours."

Loki sneered at that, but Odin did not permit him the opportunity to retort. "Time runs short. You have but moments to prepare yourselves." The All-Father then nodded to me. "I must ask that you—both of you—join the assembly in the planetarium. Our next course of action must be decided upon."

Despite Odin's attempts to placate and press onwards, Loki was far less willing to relinquish his rancour. "And what possessed you to tell us this yourself?" he questioned. "Did you really come here to ensure we hadn't attempted an escape? Did you fear I would commit _treachery_ against Asgard as you so clearly expect?"

The All-Father narrowed his only remaining eye at Loki. But that was the extent of his response. He did not speak. He did not deny. Instead, he turned away, wordless, and gestured for the Einherjar to leave alongside him.

Once they were gone, I exchanged a look with Loki. He merely quirked his brow at me in an unspoken question.

"We are facing the ending of this universe," I said, making my way across the chamber to retrieve my boots. "You needn't aggravate the All-Father further."

Loki snorted at the notion. "He once told me that my mother was the only reason why I yet live. I have no cause to be courteous."

"So much has changed since then. There is no need to make things more difficult than they already are." With both feet clad once more, I stood and approached Loki. "We may have a better chance of seeing this through if you simply cooperate with the All-Father. He may even rescind his sentence of treason should we spare the Nine Realms from fiery annihilation."

"You think too highly of him."

I clenched my jaw. "And you enjoy fostering your resentment far too much."

He stared down at me, posture growing rigid. "And I will continue to do so until I no longer have a reason."

Rubbing at my brow, I took a step back from him. "Fine." This discussion was not going to accomplish anything, that much was clear. "We should go. The destruction of everything in the Cosmos will wait for no one."

His impassive expression did not change. "Agreed."

Saying little else, he turned away from me to take his leave. Disregarding the knot in my stomach, I followed shortly behind.

In the corridor, a dozen Einherjar waited to escort us to the planetarium. Wordless, six of them surrounded Loki and marched him well ahead of me, weapons ever at the ready. Unarmed and bereft of my magic, I posed far less of a threat.

As we ventured down the stairs and through the corridor, we did not stop to meet Sif or the warriors. When nothing was mentioned of them, my heart began to race. Had they already gone ahead, or were they to meet a fate different than that of Loki and me? I hoped it was the former. I could not endure the thought of facing Ragnarök without my friends at my side.

Our entourage continued onwards, striding into the entrance hall. Shouts rang throughout the immense chamber when a number of Einherjar marched in from the grand entrance, armour marred and bloodied. I watched them go, brow furrowed, wondering what caused them such harm. But the guards escorting us did not react, nor did they acknowledge my questioning look. They let their fellows pass by and kept on to the east wing.

Past the library, we reached the planetarium and entered the immense chamber. Though I'd stepped foot in the planetarium once or twice during my apprenticeship, it never failed to amaze me. The room was domed, windowless, and lined with the darkest of stone. In the centre, there stood a dais from which light emitted, projecting an image of the galaxy. It glowed in the dark, bright and near blinding if one looked at it for too long. The Nine Realms shone clear, each world coloured and formed precisely as it should've been. They remained near aligned, the Convergence having only just passed.

Around the dais, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Thor awaited our approach. I let out a breath and fought the urge to hasten towards them, for the captain of the guard swept into the room and crossed in front of me right then. As he spoke to Odin in low tones, I sidled forward to clasp forearms with Sif. "I am most glad to see you here," I said. "For a moment, I worried they would lock all of you away forever."

A wry smile graced her lips. "They may just yet."

I barely managed to respond in kind before Odin dismissed the captain of the guard and turned to address us. "Now that your fates have been decided, you should all be informed that Alfheim was struck less than an hour ago."

In that moment, my heart seemed to stop. The All-Father looked my way, obviously aware that I would be most disturbed by these tidings. When I spoke, my voice rose no higher than a whisper. "How grave is the situation?"

"Fire demons have invaded the lands, taking the first of the Twilight Sword shards. There have been reports of casualties," Odin told me. "Our forces have begun to evacuate those most affected by this attack. They will be kept safe here."

The tension in my body lessened, somewhat assured that the Asgardians were doing all they could to help Alfheim. Yet I remained doubtful that the Light Elves could be kept safe in Asgard. With the aftermath of the Dark Elf siege still so near and the growing threat of Surtur, I did not think anyone was really safe anywhere.

He drew closer to the dais, where Heimdall remained silent and unmoving. "We have also sent word to Vanaheim to prepare for potential incursions. The Vanir have set out to excavate the shard so that we may attempt its destruction. Until such time, we must begin our search for other sword shards."

The All-Father nodded to Heimdall, who moved to operate the planetarium controls. At the press of a few buttons, the Nine Realms scrambled about and settled in a very different configuration. In the centre, Midgard shone brighter. Alongside it, Alfheim and several other worlds gleamed in the darkening chamber.

"According to our records, this is how the Nine Realms were situated at the time of Surtur's defeat," Heimdall remarked. "In knowing that there have been shards found on Alfheim and Vanaheim, perhaps we can determine the trajectory of the sword's shatter."

There were a number of other realms that lay in the same path: Niffleheim, Nornheim, Jotunheim, and a variety of other, lesser worlds. Even a dozen or so asteroids counted among them, but those were celestial bodies that we would have far greater difficulty exploring.

With a step closer to the image of Midgard, Loki tilted his head, the blue-green projection casting a gleam upon his features. "Surtur needed little time to locate and retrieve the shard from Alfheim. He must have some means by which he can track them. We will meet resistance wherever we go, no doubt."

Thor stood opposite him, jaw set. "Then we must lend aid to Vanaheim. We cannot allow them to face the enemy alone as Alfheim has."

The very suggestion had Loki scoffing aloud.

In return, Thor glowered. "Then what would you suggest?"

"Isn't it obvious? We go after the most vulnerable shards ourselves," Loki replied.

Although many in the chamber bristled at the notion of leaving the Vanir to wage against the threat of Muspelheim alone, it was difficult to contradict Loki's reasoning. I certainly did not wish to abandon Vanaheim to its fate, but neither could we leave this task unfulfilled. There were shards in the Nine Realms left unprotected and unobscured. They would be so easy for Surtur to retrieve, and we could not allow them to fall into his hands.

"I suspect most worlds will suffer the might of Surtur's demons. By their lonesome, the Vanir would be able to withstand such an attack for a time." Loki turned towards Odin, eyes narrowed. "Surtur will not show himself until he is fully prepared to face us and take possession of the Eternal Flame."

Odin gazed upon him with a stern eye before deigning to reply. "Yes. He has already vanished from our sight to bide his time." Using his spear as a crutch, the All-Father circled the room to stare down upon the fiery red planet near the edge of the Nine Realms. "Surtur, for all his size and might, was once defeated by my hand. He will take to hiding on Muspelheim, surrounded by untold numbers of his demon 'children,' until he is capable of challenging me again. That would mean reforging as much of the Twilight Sword as possible."

"Hold a moment," Fandral chimed in. "If we know Surtur has taken to hiding on Muspelheim with numbers that even we cannot defeat, could we not destroy their world with the Bifrost?"

Heimdall shook his head. "Leaving the Bifrost open would allow the demons to enter Asgard, including Surtur. As it stands, Surtur must reforge the Twilight Sword to open the paths to reach us and take what is his—we best not offer him a simpler means by which to do so."

Fandral lowered his eyes to the ground and nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

There was a stretch of silence as everyone in the chamber frowned, uncertain and contemplative. Eventually, it was Volstagg who loosed a breath and spoke. "Very well," he said. "Where would be the best place to start looking?"

"Niffleheim," Loki answered. "Just north of the equator, in the eastern hemisphere."

That he knew where the sword shard was, and with such specificity, garnered a few raised brows from those in our company. Even I quirked a brow at him.

"Niffleheim?" Fandral chortled, leaning closer to squint at the blue orb. It had been the second nearest world to Midgard at the moment of Surtur's defeat. "There's not a soul to be found on that world—or perhaps I should say, not a living soul."

Casting a look in Odin's direction, Heimdall waited for his approval before acting. "The shard should be fairly conspicuous. A falling metal fragment of such size would leave quite the mark on a world." The great gatekeeper turned towards the wall, and I knew he could see and hear through it, through all the stars and infinite space to seek our quarry. "There... I can perceive the beginnings of its trail, but it is dark where it came to rest. Night covers the land. Without an orbiting moon to reflect the light, it would be impossible to navigate at this hour."

"Then we will be forced to wait," Odin stated. "How long?"

"Eight hours."

Shoulders drooping, Odin gave another deep nod. "I trust that the Vanir will be able to protect the sword shard in their charge for the time being. A small number of our own forces may be spared to assist, but the majority shall have to remain on Asgard to safeguard the Eternal Flame."

Thor took an abrupt step forward, making a wild gesture towards the projection of Niffleheim. "You would have us scour Niffleheim—and any other world—without further aid?"

"Yes," was Odin's simple response. "Regardless of your folly, each one of you has proven to be capable of withstanding even the most arduous of endeavours." He paused, letting his gaze pass over us all. "You thwarted our own forces in your escape from Asgard. I suspect the demons of Muspelheim will be no match for you."

He spoke with such confidence that I felt, in some measure, encouraged. The strongest among us, Thor, could fell a dozen Chitauri in a single thunderous swoop. Alongside several of the greatest warriors Asgard had ever seen, he often proved to be a force to be reckoned with. We would face this together, and my hope that we would persevere began to swell again. We'd survived many a terrible thing. This would be no different.

"So... to Niffleheim, then." Arms crossed, Fandral shifted from one foot to the other. "The veil between the living and the dead is thinnest on Niffleheim. Legend says people can get lost in the fog and slip into the land of the dead, never to return. Worse than that, they say Hel lies beneath the surface. Wrathful spirits could rise up to meet us."

Sif shook her head. "We have the threat of Ragnarök hanging above our heads, and you're frightened of a few ghosts?"

Fandral reddened at the accusation. "I hold no fear of any ghosts."

Although Sif didn't seem convinced, the conversation ceased when Odin saw fit to interrupt, "With the challenges that lie ahead, I advise you all to find rest. There may be little opportunity to do so in the days to come."

With those final words, he turned to leave the chamber, the lights growing brighter as he did so. His every step was a struggle, even with Gungnir supporting him on his right, Heimdall remaining on his left. I surmised that the Odinsleep was growing ever nearer, but he continued to ignore its pull. Given the circumstances, I could not say the decision was remiss. A weakened Odin was perhaps better than an unconscious one.

Once the All-Father departed from the planetarium, the rest of us were escorted from the room, to be returned to our chambers.

As we set foot in the entrance hall once more, our path was hindered by a stream of Light Elves—the evacuees of which Odin spoke. Watching them shamble into the palace, I felt a terrible chill run through my veins. Already, we were witnessing the repercussions of the coming war. There had been no warning. We didn't even have a chance to prevent it from occurring.

Several among the refugees recognized me from afar. They would pause and bow, murmuring, "Your Highness" before the Einherjar gestured them along. All the same, I bowed my head in return. Even in spite of my absence from Alfheim, I was still their dowager princess. I supposed that I always would be.

As soon as there was a gap in the long procession, the Einherjar guided us forwards, hasty and restless. And yet, I could not help coming to a stop when I heard the trill of a familiar voice. "My lady? Lady Eirlys?"

I whirled about, heart in my throat. There, stood before me, was Driana, Arlessa, and my former ladies-in-waiting. A disbelieving laugh escaped me, and I strode forth to meet them without a thought. "It is such a joy to see you," I said, looking at every one of them. They appeared clean, well-dressed, and healthful. Unlike the other refugees, they did not seem to have suffered as gravely from the attack.

"You look a fright." Arlessa, ever the harried handmaid, hurried forwards to lay her hands on my shoulders, observing me from head to toe. Though I had not seen my reflection since returning from Midgard, I knew I must've been an appalling mess: battered, bloodstained, and muddy. "Did you only just return from battle?"

I glanced to the right where Loki and my friends were being taken back to the apartments. Some of them kept looking back—Loki, especially—when I did not follow. I met his gaze for a brief moment before he was led through the doorway. "I... yes, it has been a most harrowing day." Swallowing thickly, I watched as several more Light Elves walked past, in the direction of the north wing. "I was told of the incursion on Alfheim. How fares the people?"

"Nymhael had to be evacuated," Driana told me. Never did I have the privilege of seeing Nymhael myself, an island not far from the Brave Coasts where the Alfheim palace stood, but the thought of it being under attack did not hurt any less. "It was beset by fire demons. They came and went in little time, yet they wreaked such havoc." Her eyes darted towards my—her—ladies-in-waiting. "The palace and its surrounding settlements were left unscathed. Even so, King Faradei thought it wise that we accompany the evacuees. He believes it will be safer here."

I doubted Asgard was much safer than Alfheim. But where could be considered safe in times like these? It was not difficult to understand why my brother-in-law would've been concerned for Driana. The very reason for it lay in her arms, which looked like nothing more than a bundle of cloth starting to stir. For a moment, I could not breathe. _Four months_. Four months of age.

She smiled, noticing the shift in my attention. Sidling closer, she tugged on the blanket to reveal the face of her baby, eyes closed, cheeks chubby. "His name is Kalethas." He was asleep. In the face of all the turmoil the Nine Realms were enduring—and would further endure—it appeared some among us could find peace. It strengthened my hope. Kalethas deserved a future. He deserved the life Castien would have wanted for him.

"He's beautiful," I breathed. "Castien... Castien would have been so proud."

Driana stepped closer, eyes shining. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Lady Eirlys."

I looked back to see half a dozen Einherjar approach, and reality came rushing back to me like a cold, cruel wave. "My apologies," I said to them. "I will be only a moment longer."

With a deep breath, I returned my regard to Driana and Kalethas. While my heart warmed at the thought of being able to hold Kalethas, tears welled in my eyes as I realized I would not have the opportunity.

Driana glanced at the guards, brow furrowed. "Has something happened with you and the Asgardians?"

I averted my gaze and cleared my throat. Although I hated the idea of keeping the truth from her, I did not have the courage to explain how I had a hand in Surtur's rise. Instead, I spoke only partial truths. "My friends and I disobeyed orders. We are being kept under guard until we are needed again."

She nodded in understanding, yet there remained an uncertainty in her expression. "Are you going to stop Surtur?"

I inclined my head and answered with sheer honesty. "We're going to try."

"When you do, we shall see you again," Driana promised.

And I just hoped that we could both keep to that promise.

After sharing parting words, we went our separate ways. As I watched them go, somehow, my stomach churned and my heart felt light all at once.

When I returned to my chambers, any thought of sleep was eclipsed by the blood and grime on my skin. I lingered just long enough to assemble clean attire, and, after some convincing, the six Einherjar acting as my guard accompanied me to the bathhouse.

Unlike every other chamber in the palace, the bathhouse was practically deserted. It seemed most had little care for hygiene with the threat of death constantly hovering overhead. But, for me, sinking into a warm bath in a private room was the greatest luxury in the known universe. I could not recall the last time I'd bathed in such comfort. Still, I could not dally—as much as I wished to—for fear of falling asleep right then and there.

Refreshed and renewed, I clothed in a clean, willowy dress for the first time in almost a year. I'd missed the feeling of smooth fabric swishing around my ankles—a reminder of warmer, peaceful days when I did not have to worry about everyone I cared for dying a horrible fiery death. I could scarcely remember living in a time of peace. I wondered if we would ever see such days again.

Once the Einherjar escorted me back to my chambers, a servant swept inside to deliver a large bowl of stew. As I sat, the Einherjar were gracious enough to stand in the corridor, granting me some privacy for the first time since arriving in Asgard in chains earlier that day. The sun had set long ago, and now the two moons were near full, providing ample enough illumination for me to forego lighting any candles.

I hadn't eaten alone in many months. It unsettled me, eating alone, but it did not keep me from satiating my appetite, consuming the contents of the bowl in what might've been minutes. Everything had to be done in haste, now that we knew each passing moment meant that Surtur and his demons were one step closer to our ultimate destruction.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed aside my empty bowl and headed into my bedchamber, desperate for sleep. Tiptoeing through the dark, I gave life to a crackling blaze in the fireplace. In the wardrobe, I shed my dress and slipped on a nightgown, a thin white one that came to a rest just above the knee. The very moment I did so, I heard the door to my bedchamber close with a soft _thump_.

I closed my wardrobe to find Loki leaning against the bedchamber door, arms crossed. He was dressed in loose black slacks and a deep green shirt, his dark hair mussed and slightly damp. _This is the cleanest we've been in months_. The thought almost brought a smile to my lips. There were apparently some benefits to being prisoners in the palace.

"Do you think Odin notices when you leave your chambers?" I asked, padding over to the bottom of the steps that would lead to the bed.

His eyes narrowed. "I don't care, so long as he does not stop me."

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I shook my head. "What I said earlier about Odin... I want you to know that I do understand your ire." I sighed and avoided his gaze. "But I fear I cannot share your opinion of the All-Father."

Jaw clenched, he pushed away from the door before coming to stand opposite me. "Why is he so deserving of your favour?" Loki snapped. "If he didn't need my help, he would have had me killed by now."

A sharp heat crawled along the nape of my neck, my retort spilling from my lips with little censure. " _You_ had people killed."

The silence that followed rang deep and hollow. He drew back from me, the coldness in his expression enough to send a stabbing chill straight to my heart. It only grew worse when he turned from me without a word, reaching the bedchamber door in two long strides.

Stomach twisting, I darted forwards and grabbed his arm. "No, Loki, wait."

He came to a stop, never fighting my hold. I knew he let me stop him.

With a shaky breath, I inched closer, my hand resting on his arm still. He did not look at me, not even as I spoke in the gentlest tone I could possibly conjure. "You did not allow me to finish." After a moment, he lifted his eyes to meet mine in unspoken assent. "What I meant was that I cannot begrudge the All-Father his choices because I no longer take exception to what _you_ have done. Circumstances have changed, and no good would come of condemning you forever for a past that cannot be erased. I grant him only the same."

Loki sighed softly then, bowing his head and relaxing under my hold.

"I don't want anything to stand between us, especially in circumstances such as these." When he said nothing, I pressed nearer, moving to grasp both his arms. "I worry about you—I have for quite some time now. I worry about all the things you carry in silence. The days you spent alone in the dark recesses of the Cosmos..."

He turned his head away, retreating into himself as I'd feared he would. "What difference would it make if I spoke of such things?"

"It would mean a great deal to me," I said. "Your mother once expressed her concern that you do not heal, and I feel much the same. I don't know what happened to you in all the time we spent apart. I don't know all that you suffered. I don't even know what haunts you at night—every night—when you wake and leave our bed to bear it in silence."

Motionless, he hesitated for seconds longer before lifting a brow at me. "Why does it matter to you so much?"

A short, incredulous breath of laughter escaped me. "It matters to me because I love you."

He stared at me, the widening of his eyes near imperceptible. With the faint shake of his head, he slipped from my grasp and made his way back across the room to drop onto the edge of the bed.

Brow raised, I followed him, pausing to stand just at the bottom of the steps. "You always seem so shocked whenever I say it still."

There was just the hint of a smile shadowing his features. "That is because I am."

My heart dipped. "What have I done to make you doubt it?"

"You? Nothing," Loki said. "It is what I've done."

To hear him speak with such an unusual amount of candour gave rise to an ache in my chest. Just the same, I felt a sense of... relief.

He looked at me straight on, the firelight casting a warmer glow on our exchange. "What prompted you to ask about my time in the more vile places of the Cosmos? Other than your unyielding curiosity."

Licking my bottom lip, I climbed the few steps to the bed and sat beside him. "It was something you said in the planetarium. You knew, with such certainty, that there was a sword shard on Niffleheim. It made me wonder if that was information you'd gleaned after..."

"After the Bifrost was destroyed." He let his regard drift towards the fireplace, though I was left wondering if the memory of it troubled him. "I saw worlds that cannot be described by mere words. I spent much of my time in the darkest corners of the Nine Realms with soldiers of fortune, assassins, thieves. I encountered a band of smugglers who sought to recruit me in their venture to procure the Twilight Sword shards."

I canted my head. "But you refused?"

"I was much more interested in their intended buyer: the Mad Titan." Despite the light of the fire, his expression seemed to darken. "Instead of having me join them, they agreed to grant me passage and arrange an audience with Thanos' underlings—not without a price, of course. I gave them the only thing of value I had with me, and that was the Casket of Ancient Winters."

My brow lifted. "You traded away the Casket of Ancient Winters?"

"I knew Thanos could provide me with more than a mere weapon. I believed he could give me a throne—an army. The Jotuns wouldn't have, not after what I'd done." With a deep exhale, he let his gaze flicker back up to me. "Perhaps it was desperate and foolish. There's no knowing what the smugglers did with the Casket. They knew its power, but I doubt they understood its significance.

"Still, during my time with them, I was able to glean the location of the sword shard," Loki remarked. "I can say, without question, that they never found it. They're most likely dead now."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Yes, well..." His eyes glinted in the light. "I never said they were very clever."

Though it had been difficult to retain any sense of humour after the sort of day we had, I couldn't help but smile at that. I didn't want to lose the ability to enjoy the little life we had left. "Then we best pray that they were right about the sword shard in Niffleheim, regardless of their lack of wit," I said. "Otherwise, we could very well doom ourselves and the entire Nine Realms."

He lifted a brow at me. "I thought it was your intention to diminish that which troubles me, not add to them."

"I had to try. I know you have difficulty sleeping at night, and I'm not certain if you think you're fooling me or not." I smiled still, lifting my hands to cradle his face between my palms. Even in the dim lighting, I could see the pallid colour of his complexion, the dark circles that were there more often than not. "You look exhausted."

He chuckled once I said it. "Oh? Do I?"

Bottom lip between my teeth, I tried not to laugh at the sheer obviousness of the statement. Instead, I sighed softly and ran my thumb across his cheekbone. "When did you last sleep?"

"I can barely recall," he said, feigning deep concentration. "I believe I had several hours of sleep during our last day on Nidavellir."

My brow dipped, and I withdrew my hands. "Loki, that was four days ago."

"I'm well aware of that," he replied. "Or was it five days ago? It's such a challenge keeping track of the days when we're venturing from world to world, desperately fighting to avert endless catastrophes to no avail."

A short laugh managed to escape my lips. That he could make light of the situation, even now, made me think that we had a chance. Large or small, we still had a chance. "At the least, we can attempt to remedy your unparalleled exhaustion," I said, taking his hand in mine.

Slipping off the edge of the bed, I led him round to the side and threw back the covers. Once I climbed in, he followed, bringing the bedsheets with him. It had been many months since we shared a proper bed. For the most part, we slept in tents, on beds of rocks, beneath the clouds and the rain and whatever other discomforts the Nine Realms bestowed upon us. This was sheer opulence.

I turned to face him, laid on my side, and carded my fingers through his hair. "Go to sleep."

He hummed, his eyes fluttering closed, but he did not seem content until he dragged me closer to envelop me in his arms. I shivered at his touch, his fingertips grazing the exposed skin of my back. With a sigh, I let my cheek rest atop his temple as he tucked his head beneath my jaw, pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

In the dark, I tried not to think about all that had happened in the day. Was it truly the beginning of Ragnarök? Did we doom the Nine Realms to a fiery end? I closed my eyes to those notions. Wondering and doubting were not going to put and end to the chaos we'd unleashed. _Sleeping might_ , I mused. Shifting ever so slightly, I laid a kiss on Loki's brow and held him close.

His arms tightened around me in response, and for the barest of moments, I felt safe.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I just wanted to note that a reviewer brought up the Casket of Ancient Winters last week, so I felt the need to throw in a few lines about it. In canon, the Casket is never mentioned again, which is what led me to assume that Loki no longer had it. And so, I made up something to keep it out of his hands. I don't know if they'll ever bring it up again in the films—if they do, I'm probably going to be wrong, therefore we can chalk it up to being AU!

Thanks for reading. Please take a moment to write a review, even if it is only a few words!


	7. The Realm of the Dead

**Author's Note:** Welcome back! Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and alerted. You guys are the best!

I apologize for the increasing length of chapters. I hope it isn't too much to handle.

* * *

 **SEVEN**

* * *

 _the realm of the dead_

* * *

In the early morning hours, the sway of our caravan was almost enough to make me ill. Even after having been granted the gift of rest and comfort the night before, I could not quell the anxieties that roiled within. Perhaps there was no quelling those anxieties—not until all of this was over. Whether it be in victory or death.

Loki sat across from me, hands folded, elbows resting upon his knees. Amidst the quiet, nothing but the _clack-clack_ of horse hooves filled the air. Though our caravan was being escorted by Einherjar on horseback, they did not see the need to bind or separate us as they had earlier. There was no need for suspicion. We had nowhere to run.

Listening to the murmur of Fandral and Thor's conversation, I let my gaze drift over the rest of our companions. Volstagg sat beside Loki, his eyes closed, expression more serene than the situation warranted—a result, perhaps, of him having seen his family before we departed. Beside me, Sif stared out of the back of the caravan, gaze distant.

Upturning my hand, I wondered if my magic would do much good in the state it was in. I supposed it did help during our conflict with the Dark Elves. With a deep breath, I splayed my fingers and cast the most basic of spells. A glow emitted from the palm of my hand in the form of a dull blue light. In the faint luminescence, Sif smiled a touch. Small as it was, I couldn't sustain it for longer than twenty seconds. As soon as it dissipated, I felt oddly breathless from the effort.

My heart clenched at the thought of engaging the enemy once more bereft of the full breadth of my magic. I'd spent seventy years honing my skills with blade and barrier in hand. It felt as though I was entering into battle absent a limb.

A hush fell over us all when we reached the Bifrost at last. Our caravan came to an abrupt stop, and we filed out one by one. Equipping my shield, I followed behind Sif with Loki in my wake. Ahead, Heimdall awaited us in the heart of the observatory; he had been reinstated as gatekeeper, if only for the time being. As we approached, a dozen Einherjar trailed after us, ever watchful. Several more stood guard in the observatory to keep cautious vigil over Heimdall.

Odin was notably absent. When the Einherjar escorted us to the entrance hall earlier in the day, they'd mentioned that the All-Father was 'conserving his energy,' which I assumed meant he was meditating in place of succumbing to the Odinsleep. Nevertheless, his command was recognized by all, and we were expected to fulfill it.

"It will not be easy, navigating Niffleheim," Heimdall said upon our arrival. Niffleheim was one of the few worlds in our purview that went uncharted. Those who ventured there never got far—either they returned to Asgard in little time or they disappeared into the fog forever. "Not only do the great mists hinder my sight, but it appears the shards of the Twilight Sword are shrouded in a dark magic that impair my searching eyes as well. All I have glimpsed is the scar left behind by a falling shard in the northern lands as Loki has described."

Heimdall and Loki exchanged a steely look, though not a negative word was said.

The gatekeeper then turned, broadsword in hand, and paced the steps to the pedestal. "I will place you as near as possible to where the sword shard is presumed to be."

We circled round the observatory, armed and prepared to face whatever Surtur might use to impede us. Among our company, there was confidence in the notion that Surtur himself would not face us just yet; he was unprepared and all in the Nine Realms were bracing themselves for his next move.

"What course must we take?" Thor asked, standing at the fore of our company.

"Travel northward," Heimdall answered, "and do not ever deviate from that path."

Fandral cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. "How will we know which way is northward should we find ourselves wandering in the deepest of mists?"

"The sun will be just risen in the east." Heimdall moved to slide his broadsword into place. "Through even the thickest fog, you should be able to see the light."

The Bifrost shuddered and trembled as Heimdall activated it. Our Einherjar escort backed away to linger by the entrance, no longer needing to keep us under guard as prisoners. In truth, it was more likely they were here to ensure that we reached our destination without interference, for they believed we were the best hope of averting Ragnarök.

When I looked ahead, at the churning aperture that gave us a view of the endless dark, Loki turned to me and gave a nod. Even as I wondered if it was trepidation I perceived in his eyes, I felt some sense of assurance from him. The Bifrost observatory began to turn faster, streaks of blue energy emitting from the pedestal to strike at the bronze sphere within which we stood.

"Good fortune be with you," Heimdall said. "I only ask one thing of you." Most of us looked back, our collective regard coming to rest on the solemn guardian of the gate. "Come back. Alive."

Then, with a sharp tug, we left Asgard and went hurtling through the Cosmos. As the stars and colours smeared on either side, I gripped the hilt of my sword, finding some semblance of solace in the soft leather beneath my fingertips. In mere seconds, Niffleheim was a speck of grey and blue. I felt a strange rush of cold upon our approach, more so than usual.

When we landed, a billow of grey dust stirred and roiled around us. Our group of six huddled close together, backs to one another. As we anticipated, the world of Niffleheim was covered in a thick layer of fog, limiting our view to less than two feet before us. The air was heavy with a choking smog, and I found myself struggling to catch my breath despite not having moved an inch. What surprised me, however, was that it was not as cold as I'd thought.

"All right." Fandral coughed and took two steps forward. He did not dare go any further, for he would have been lost to the fog if he did. "How shall we proceed? This is unlike our ventures into Svartalfheim, Nornheim... not even Jotunheim was as bad as this."

He glanced at Thor, but it was Loki who provided an answer. "We keep the sun to our right. Walk in single file. Do not—and I mean absolutely do not—lose sight of the person in front of you."

Volstagg straightened, gripping his axe with both hands. "Right. Who would like to lead?"

I glanced upwards to see that only the barest light of the sun could tear through the dense fog. The gleam scattered through the mist in odd angles, making it more difficult to determine where exactly the sun was positioned. We could keep it to our right for a time, but it would soon sit higher overhead. Tracking our direction would only become more difficult as time passed.

"I will lead," Thor said, moving to stand just northward of us all—or so we judged.

Sif trailed after him, with Fandral and Volstagg next. I came after, Loki at the rear. With a deep breath, we started forwards.

We walked and walked and walked, the land stretching before us endlessly. It was nothing but grey dirt going on for the Norns knew how long. Dust fluttered about with every step, though our footprints vanished in the constant breeze. I shivered at the feeling of the wind threading through my hair. Every time it did, I peered over my shoulder at Loki, and he would meet my gaze with grim determination.

Farther and farther, we pressed on until I could no longer ascertain how much time had passed. The sun did not move on high as I'd guessed it would; perhaps the world's rotation was not as fast as I'd assumed. All the same, we continued on for what felt like hours. My feet were starting to ache, which was an oddity in itself. I'd ventured for days in the same boots before, and never had I experienced such pain.

When Loki's hand came to rest on my shoulder, I nearly jolted at the unexpected touch. "We need to stop," he said. "I'm beginning to think we're not getting anywhere."

"Beginning to?" I asked, my relief at stopping marred by my bewilderment. "We've been walking for hours. One of us should have said something long ago."

His brow furrowed. "Hours? We couldn't have been walking for more than twenty minutes."

"Is anyone else incredibly parched?" Fandral called from ahead. "We've been walking all day."

I exchanged a look of alarm with Loki, then he grasped my hand, drawing me forwards to bring the rest of our company to a halt. "Stop. We must stop right now."

Thor looked about, squinting through the fog. "What? We've only just started."

At this, everyone else froze, leaving Sif to drag Thor to a standstill. "What in the Nine Realms is happening?" Sif said, turning to Fandral. "You weren't exaggerating, were you? When you said we've been walking all day."

"I wasn't," Fandral replied, glancing at each of us. "My legs haven't been this sore since we trekked through the mountains of Nidavellir."

Volstagg shook his head. "I feel as though mere minutes have passed."

Sif frowned. "To me, it has been an hour."

"Ah, I see this realm has already begun to drain us of our sanity," Fandral quipped.

"We have no way of knowing how far we've travelled," I said.

"If we've travelled at all." Loki pointed at a rock some two feet to our left. "We've walked past this rock at least ten times."

"Then we're going in circles?" Thor wondered.

"Somehow, I doubt we're even going anywhere," Loki replied.

Fandral ran his fingers through his beard and sighed. "The fog is playing tricks on us."

"Perhaps we should have Heimdall call us home," Volstagg suggested. "So that we might reclaim our bearings."

With a sigh, Sif crossed her arms. "In all likelihood, he cannot see us through the fog. It might help if we stood on the Bifrost site, but there seems to be no sign of it."

Thor peered upwards, into the opaque mists above. "Heimdall! We must return to Asgard!"

There was no response.

"Well then… I suppose we are trapped here." Nodding, Fandral cast a look all around us, at the never-ending fog. "It would not be wrong to say that things have just taken a turn for the worse."

Our company fell silent and uncertain, each one of us waiting for another to resolve this predicament. Fandral and Volstagg kept glancing in Loki's direction as he stared out at the limitless mists with a calculating eye. They were clearly expecting him to find a solution. And it was no false hope, so it seemed.

"You need to summon lightning," Loki declared. The suggestion had everyone sharing dubious looks. "With Mjolnir, you need to summon lightning and loose it into the sky. It will draw attention to us."

With a frown, Thor peered at the weapon in his hands. "But our enemies would be apprised of our location."

Loki turned to sneer at him. "Would you rather we wander the fog until the days waste away and the Nine Realms meet their end in our absence? Attempting to signal Heimdall might prove a better use of our time."

Thor scowled in reply, but he hefted Mjolnir above his head nevertheless. The atmosphere heated seconds before electricity gathered, striking the mythical hammer. Rearing the weapon back, Thor thrust it back towards the sky, letting fly a streak of lightning. It rushed through the air with an almighty _CRACK_ , disappearing into the misty ether above.

We waited several moments... or what I thought to be several moments. Nothing happened.

Jaw set, Thor conjured the lightning again, and I felt the _BOOM_ of the thunderbolt shudder through my frame. He did it again. And again. The rest of us, save for Loki, sat amidst the grey dust to relieve our legs of their burden. With the sound of thunder echoing around us, we waited in the otherwise anxious quest for something—anything—to happen.

After a fashion, the air began to stir.

But the churning of the wind was quite unlike the disturbance caused by the Bifrost, a sensation I would recognize anywhere. The fog swirled and billowed, parting here and there. Through the thinning mist, we saw that the full extent of the land proved to be nothing but grey dirt. Such a sight became of little consequence when figures began to appear in the rolling fog. Figures twisting upwards, forming the shape of people. _Ghosts_.

"By the Norns." Gripping his foil, Fandral launched himself to his feet. "Spirits have come to take us. How does one fight a spirit, exactly?"

As we all followed suit, grasping for our weapons, Thor hefted Mjolnir and said, "Let's find out."

The strange mist continued to swell and spiral, creating silhouettes and profiles of people. People I recognized. _No, not all of them. Just the one._ I moved towards Thor and laid a hand on his forearm, compelling him to lower his weapon. "Wait. I... I don't think they're here to harm us."

They took the form of warriors. Some bore shields, axes, swords. The one who carried a bow seized my attention. He was the one who seemed familiar. I strode forward to meet him, uncertain but suspecting. When he stepped out of the fog, I came to a standstill, my heart wedged in my throat.

"Castien?"

His smile was immediate, though a touch abashed. It was a smile I saw more often than not whenever he and Driana ducked out of Alfheim court for longer than was deemed appropriate. "Eirlys, am I ever glad to see you," he said. His translucent form grew opaque the nearer he came, blue eyes and blond hair looking more like their familiar shades. "We almost could not find you. The thunder and lightning served an excellent beacon in conditions such as these."

When he stood within a yard, I took a stumbling step back, my shoulder bumping into that of Loki. He grasped my arm, eyes narrowed at Castien—in suspicion or contempt, I could not say. I wanted to be glad that I was seeing Castien, but the circumstances had me ill at ease. He'd simply appeared from the fog alongside an assortment of warriors; most were Light Elves, and others looked to be of the Vanir, as indicated by the sun sigils on their armour and shields. Despite my affinity for both kindred, I remained wary. Their emergence could've been another trick of the land.

I swallowed dryly and rest a hand on my scabbard. "Castien, is it really you?"

"I..." Brow cinched, he cast a swift glance over our entire company before understanding dawned. When he looked to Loki, who hovered at my side still, his expression softened. "What could I say to convince you? I'm glad you found your way back to your prince," he remarked. "Or perhaps I should say I'm glad he found his way back to you."

The warmth flooding my chest assured me that it was truly Castien who stood before us.

"'Your prince'?" Loosening his hold on my arm, Loki scowled. "Did he actually refer to me as such?"

I very nearly laughed at his expression. "He did."

"Apologies." Castien inclined his head towards Loki. "There was no intent to offend."

Although I smiled, I did not dare approach. "I can hardly believe you're here."

"With the Convergence still so near, the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than ever, which allows us to venture from Valhalla to Niffleheim for a period of time." Turning sideways, he gestured what we'd previously judged to be northwards, and the score of warriors who accompanied him parted to grant us passage. "I can lead you through the fog. It is disorienting for the living, but the dead cannot find themselves lost."

After bestowing my companions with respectful nods—to Thor, he gave a quick, "your highness"—Castien started in the northerly direction. I exchanged glances with my friends, most of whom were sporting frowns and furrowed brows. In the absence of any protestations, we followed in a single file. This time, I walked with Castien at the front; Loki remained close behind, while Thor and the others strode in his wake. The ghostly warriors surrounded us, forming an escort of sorts. They had their weapons at the ready, though I wondered how they would be capable of defending us should we be beset by Surtur's demons.

"Tell me," Castien said, tucking his bow over his shoulder, "how does Alfheim fare?"

I hesitated, uncertain if I was capable of describing precisely how Alfheim was faring. I'd last seen the realm some eight months past. Loki and I had been sent to reiterate our peace agreement with the Light Elves, a formal albeit unnecessary endeavour. With the most recent attack, I had little knowledge of the realm's condition.

"I cannot say for certain," I replied. "They suffered an attack just yesterday, though the people yet endure. Last I saw Faradei... he toils under the burden of the throne, but he does not flounder."

Castien nodded. "I am aware of the attack. Casualties were few, so I was told." He gazed ahead, the fog splitting with every one of our steps. "As for Faradei, he always had an aptitude for fulfilling his duty, no matter what endeavour fell into his path. At times, I've wondered if he is better suited for rule than I ever was."

Something about his remark prompted me to seek out Loki. He averted his eyes when I did so, but I knew he was listening. Returning my regard to Castien, I matched his pace now. "You must know... about Driana..."

There was a falter in his stride at the mention of her name. Even so, he did not stop. Given the circumstances, we did not have the luxury of having a proper conversation about all the things that meant everything to him. "She would have had the baby by now." His voice was little more than a whisper.

When he grimaced, I suspected he wanted to ask questions—a million questions that I shamefully did not know the answers to. And yet he could not seem to voice them. "His name is Kalethas."

Bowing his head, he smiled a knowing smile. The name must have held some significance to him, though he would never say. "Good, I'm glad."

I felt the urge to offer condolences, to apologize for the fact that he would never be able to see his son. But I decided against it. How does one express condolences to a friend who had died and gone to Valhalla? It seemed so painfully absurd. Knowing that we could not sit and talk as we'd often done—not even one last time—made it hurt all the more. He was already dead, but I was losing him once again.

"Here." Castien slowed to a stop, crouching at what looked like the beginnings of a meteorite crash—or that of a sword shard. "It is not far now."

We travelled along the trail until it came to an abrupt end, the land sloping sharply downwards. Farther on, the trail must have recommenced, leading to the crater that presumably followed.

I looked back at my friends to ensure they remained close. The spirit warriors lingered, keeping us enclosed so that none of us would be lost to the fog. I noticed Fandral attempting to converse with several of them, asking questions about Valhalla that they refused to answer. "Valhalla is not something we share," one replied. "It is something you earn."

Our company headed down the hill, the angle of the ground changing abruptly. I slipped once on the shifting grey dust, and Loki grabbed me from behind to keep me from falling. He smirked, his gaze skimming down to my backside. "Wouldn't want to hurt yourself before the battle even begins."

Biting back a smile, I cast him a sharp glare. It only seemed to amuse him further.

As we reached the foot of the hill, the fog became thinner. The way ahead revealed itself in the lessening haze. We could see a yard or two in front of us, a fact that might have meant little to the dead, who seemed able to travel through the mists without difficulty. In minutes, we found the continuation of the sword shard's trail, a deep tear in the surface of the land.

We'd just begun marching in the trench when a distant roar resounded through the dense air. Every one of us stopped and look to our left, in a westward direction. "Demons?" Volstagg asked.

Castien nodded, slipping his bow from his shoulder. "That would be my best guess."

Eyes on the finely crafted bow, Fandral tilted his head. "Where did you get that?"

"Valhalla," was the distracted response. Then Castien glanced between Loki and me. "The warriors and I will hold them at bay. Someone will meet you ahead and guide you to the sword shard. She has a better understanding of its properties, anyhow."

I blinked, questions on the tip of my tongue, but another chilling roar spurred me into action. My companions and I strode past Castien, keeping to the trail left behind by the sword shard. As we went, Castien and the other spirit warriors crowded together to defend our rear. My regard did not leave him until he was well out of sight, the fog separating us once more.

The trench within which we trod grew deeper the farther we went. At the same time, the fog dwindled a little more, the air growing warmer. No one spoke. When I glanced behind, I saw Fandral's wide-eyed gaze darting left and right, as though he feared we would still find ourselves lost in the mists of Niffleheim. To our fortune, we did not lose our way again. Nor did we come upon the sword shard just yet. But our wanderings did lead us to something far more dear to our hearts.

She was a bare outline at first, garbed in fine cloth, her hair coiled upon her head in intricate braids. When we drew closer, I faltered to a stop. Most of our company followed suit, bringing our quest to an unceremonious halt. Thor, on the other hand, pushed past us to stand at the fore, his brow cinched tight, his stare never leaving the figure just yards ahead.

Head held high, she made her approach, tendrils of fog clinging to her form as she came into full view. In an instant, my breath abandoned me, a sharp pang in my heart taking me aback. Never had I thought we would ever have an opportunity to see her one last time.

In the blink of an eye, Thor rushed forth to sweep her into a hug. "Mother."

I stood back, my vision growing hazy at the scene laid before me.

At my side, Loki tarried, a distant expression shadowing his features. Parting from Thor, Frigga immediately sought out Loki. Gaze meeting his, she smiled and drew closer, though he did not embrace her as Thor had. Instead, she reached out to lay her hand upon his cheek.

"Oh, how I have missed you," she murmured. "All of you." Her regard passed over everyone in present company, lingering on me a moment longer than the rest. And although I desperately wanted to revel in the solace her presence brought, this was not the time. "I am sad to say we must make haste. Surtur's forces are coming for the sword shard."

Glancing round to see the bemused looks of my friends, I asked, "How did you know we would come to Niffleheim for the sword shard?"

She let her hands drop to her sides and took a step towards me. "I could not have been certain," she said, "but word of Surtur's rise reached Valhalla. One of the first signs of Ragnarök could not go ignored. We ventured to Niffleheim in the hopes that we might offer you aid, for it was the only aid we could offer."

I allowed myself a smile. "Then I am glad that you are here."

Reciprocating my faint cheer, Frigga turned to look northward, further along the trench. "We have been trying to excavate the shard with the expectation that someone would come to take it back to Asgard."

She led us along the trail, her left hand gripping the pommel of the sword at her side—the sword we'd placed with her upon her funeral pyre. _Was that really only a few days ago?_ I mused. _How long will it be before we'll need funeral pyres of our own?_ I shook the grim thought from my mind, a gesture that Loki seemed to notice, judging by the curious look he cast my way.

Within minutes, we reached the crater that housed the sword shard. It sat deep in the ground, right in the centre of the haphazard bowl it had created long ago. The air here was far more still than the expanse of Niffleheim from whence we came. It felt thick, almost with a prickling heat. _Dark magic_. That it was strong enough for me to feel, even in my debilitated state, was terrifying.

Throughout the crater, a multitude of warriors meandered about: Vanir, Aesir, Light Elves, and, oddly, two Dark Elves. My brow lifted at the sight of them. They were striking the ground, loosening the heavy dirt surrounding what I presumed to be the shard of the Twilight Sword we'd come for. The dark grey metal slab was perhaps eleven feet in length and four feet wide. Every edge was jagged, suggesting that it was one fragment out of many more—a small fragment by mere comparison.

After but a moment, Volstagg and Fandral exchanged a look. "Room for two more?" Fandral asked, darting ahead to assist the spirit warriors digging up the sword shard. Volstagg hurried to accompany him, squeezing between two Vanir swordsmen. With so many crowded around the sword shard, there was little else we could do to help.

And so, Frigga faced the remainder of our company, her expression softening into a quavering smile. "We best speak our partings now, for our time together is fast ending." I felt my heart jolt despite having known that our time was ever limited all along; perhaps I'd hoped we would have just a moment longer. "This will be the last we meet since the veil will restore itself when the Convergence fully passes. I will not be able to cross over again."

At first, no one moved. I simply stared at her, chest tightening. In the back of my mind, I had to wonder if we could've brought her back with us or if there was some way this weakened veil between the living and the dead could be used to our benefit. But there wasn't enough time to answer such questions. Aside from that, I did not think Frigga would approve of any attempts to cheat death.

After a breath, Frigga drew nearer to Thor and Loki, both of whom stood with shoulders drawn up in false resolve. "My sons," she said, grasping their hands in each of hers. "Always will you have a place in my heart. Even in the face of all your faults, I want you to remember that I am proud of you both. And you will continue to make me proud, that I know."

Shoulders drooping, Thor turned his hand over to clasp tighter onto hers. "I don't know how we can carry on without you."

"You will find a way. You always do." She graced him with one last smile before turning to Loki.

He looked away from her, his expression pinched. Then, with great hesitation, he spoke at a whisper, "I never... apologized."

"There is no need." Although her smile did not falter, her eyes brimmed with tears. "You have my forgiveness." She reached up and cradled his head between her hands to press a kiss to his brow.

When she drew away, a shout sounded from those excavating the shard. They appeared to be struggling under the weight of the large fragment, unable to lift it from its trench. Volstagg called for Thor's aid, to which he responded by shooting a look towards Loki. Upon sharing a nod, they spoke their final words to their mother.

In the interest of giving them some semblance of privacy, I lowered my eyes and backed away to avoid heeding any of their words. This was between a mother and her sons.

Once their farewells were said, they slowly—perhaps reluctantly—parted ways with her. I watched as several spirits moved aside to allow Thor access to the shard. Loki began directing them, quick to determine the best way to dislodge the large metal fragment from the earth beneath it. But the sword shard did not hold my attention for long.

Frigga approached, glancing from me to Sif. "The both of you..." The waver in her voice made her pause and take a breath. "You are both so brave," she said. "My dear Lady Sif, you have my gratitude for all that you have done."

Sif bowed her head. "My queen, you will not be forgotten. You are the example I will always live by."

Bowing her head to Sif in turn, Frigga looked to me at last. I fought with all my might to withhold my tears, to force back the small sob bubbling up from within. "My... I should have prevented your death," I said. Swallowing past the lump in my throat proved difficult. "If I had my magic, I would have been able to—"

"Oh, Eirlys, no... I don't want you to carry the burden of what happened. You already have so much of the future weighing on you." She came closer and placed her hands on my shoulders. "My death was not your doing. You did everything you could. Never blame yourself. It was not your hand that took my life."

A tear trailed from the corner of my eye, and I wiped it from my chin with haste. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

Frigga dropped her gaze, though she did not move an inch otherwise. "I knew not what would come to pass, but the dreams..." Pausing, she loosed a sigh. "My visions warned me of a terrible happening on the day Jane Foster vanished from our sight. All I saw was Asgard being struck by Dark Elves, so like my visions in the past that I doubted they were visions at all."

"You thought it was just a dream." At that moment, I had to wonder if the visions she had in the past really were of events occurring now. "You hadn't any idea it would be like this."

She shook her head. "I saw nothing of the fire and darkness."

"Then the future remains uncertain," I murmured. "We can still stop Surtur."

"And I believe you will." Her right hand left my shoulder to brush another stray tear from my face. "You must prepare yourself for what is to come."

With a shuddering breath, I nodded and stood as tall as my burdens would allow. "Then we haven't much time." The thought made my heart twist further into knots. "I don't know how to say my farewells."

Despite the sorrow in which we steeped, Frigga found a way to smile. "You have come so far, in all the years I have known you. If I'd ever had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be like you." She cupped my face between her palms, beaming now. "And I could not have been more proud."

More tears trickled down my cheeks; this time, I did not bother to sweep them away. "You were there for me in a time when I needed guidance the most." Though I felt I should've spoken further to express how profound her effect on my life had been, the words would not come. In a shaky voice, I said no more than, "I will forever be grateful, my lady."

Eyes shining, she laid a kiss upon my brow, as she had done with Loki. "Shadow and flame pave the path ahead. Take care in the coming days," she said, nodding to both me and Sif. "And look after my sons."

Sniffling softly, Sif inclined her head. "We will."

The voices of those surrounding the sword shard rose above our own, yanking on our attention. "Once more!" Thor shouted, crouching in the dusty dirt along with all the other warriors. "Heave!"

Every warrior, living or dead, pulled on the shard, dragging it free from the ground at last, mounds of dirt falling to the wayside. In an instant, Frigga marched forth to address everyone at once, "You mustn't linger here a moment longer. We must find a place where Heimdall can see you."

Without preamble, Loki started up the slope, heading back the way from which we'd come. "Then we best start scouring the realm for a breach in the fog."

No questions needed to be asked. No orders needed to be given. The spirits warriors simply shouldered the shard, and we all followed Loki up the hill, our newly obtained ancient relic sheltered in the heart of our company. Frigga strode ahead to take the lead alongside Loki, guiding us through the disorienting fog.

I glanced left and right without end, wary of our surroundings even if I could not see more than a yard before me. At my side, Sif did the same, her expression grim. "Where are they?" she muttered. "Do you suppose Surtur's forces have some way to track us through the fog?"

Swallowing thickly, I curled my fingers around the hilt of my sword. "Something tells me that they are drawn to the Twilight Sword somehow—like a beacon. I suspect that is how they were able to locate the shard on Alfheim so easily."

Sif clenched her jaw. "Of course. Nothing is ever simple."

"Nothing in our lives ever seems to be." A wry smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "At times, I wonder if the Norns have cursed us or blessed us."

With a sideways glance, she loosed a chuff of laughter. "Perhaps a touch of both."

Approaching footsteps brought our conversation to an abrupt end, the very noise of it much too near for my own liking. It was but a _thud_ and a _crunch_ , the strange pattern repeating over and over. _Thud. Crunch. Thud. Crunch_. They were footsteps, verily, but what sort of being would create such a sound as it walked?

Frigga whirled about to face the direction of the nearing din. "You must hurry. The demons have broken through our ranks." After several long seconds, she cast a quick look towards us. "Keep going. Keep searching for a way back. I will make my best attempt to hinder them."

Though we'd all certainly heeded her, a tremor of hesitation ran through our company. Thor reached out to Frigga, lips parted with unspoken words. "Mother."

But she forestalled him. "I know." Her expression softened, the sad smile playing at her lips the only farewell she had for her son. "Now go."

Not bothering to waste time with further words, Thor squared his shoulders and strode past her. For a mere moment longer, Loki held her gaze. Ultimately, he never spoke to her again. After having said all that they'd wished to say, their last goodbye took the form of a single nod.

While a number of spirits remained to fight beside her, the rest passed her by. My friends and I followed a short ways in their wake, parting from the queen with great reluctance. When I looked back at her, my eyes meeting hers one final time, she smiled once more.

That smile was the last I ever saw of Frigga.

The warriors carrying the shard started out at a run once we reached the height of the hill. We kept pace, surrounding the twelve of them to provide the best protection we could offer. At the sound of a roar behind us, I all but stumbled. It resonated from the bottom of the hill, where we'd left Frigga and a handful of spirit warriors. As much as my instincts told me to stop and face our enemy, we persevered, dashing further into the smog. We couldn't even be certain if there was any break in the mists in the whole of Niffleheim. But we had no choice—we had to keep searching, else we find ourselves trapped here forever.

Minutes were squandered as we kept on, running incessantly into the mist, the spirits guiding us onwards. By then, our good fortune seemed to expire.

Not a single warning preceded the creatures that came tearing through the fog. A flash of searing red and orange— _flames_ —flew past us and crashed into the warriors bearing the sword shard on their shoulders. I felt the heat before even acquiring a proper look at what was attacking us. The horns were the first thing I noticed, curved upwards like those of a bilgesnipe. Thankfully, the size of the creature was nowhere near that of a bilgesnipe. While primate in form, it was more the size of a horse. It crouched low, massive jaw bearing rows of dagger-like teeth.

Fiery eyes gleaming in the gloom, it leapt at one of the spirit warriors and began gnawing on his head. But the dead did not die. Instead, the warrior dispersed into a mist, swirling about and disappearing into the fog. When the creature raised its head next, it set its sights on Sif. Standing her ground, she unfurled Drekisbane and held her weapon at the ready. Thor, however, moved faster than even she.

A strike of lightning collided with the creature, sending a current through every fibre of its being. The creature yowled, convulsing and inevitably collapsing in a smoking heap. The power behind the thunderbolt seemed enough to kill it.

"Demons," Thor remarked. "From Muspelheim."

"Yes, I can see that," Loki retorted, garnering a scowl from his brother. "There will be plenty more. We need to move."

The spirits did not hesitate to comply. Those who remained hoisted the sword shard high and carried it forth once more. Our pace quickened, even as it became more and more difficult to maintain such speeds. My lungs burned, the thick air filling my chest with a worrisome weight. To my right, Loki faltered for the briefest of moments, hand pressed to his sternum, but he did not waver any longer than that.

We hurtled forwards in silence, wary and ready for the demons trailing us. Unsheathing Silvertongue, I braced my shield before me for fear of stumbling upon the enemy. Our journey from here would consist of little more than wandering. There was no certainty. Until we found an opening in the fog, we were left to survive the increasing number of threats. At the least, we could not get lost with the spirits to show us the way. But there was no knowing how long that would last.

Firelight flickered ahead of us, gold and red and warm—the only colour in a world bereft of it. And there was nothing pleasant about it. Not at all.

A terrible screech thundered through the air as another demon darted out from the haze. This time, it did not set upon the warriors who bore the sword shard. This time, the demons came for us. The living were the true threat, for we were the only ones who could take the shard from this place.

One among the enemy pounced, launching itself at me. Despite my haste to avoid the oncoming demon, I was not quite fast enough. I hit the ground first, my breath leaving me in one big rush. The demon followed, landing atop me, its claws digging into my shoulders, fire dancing along its whole form as though it had caught fire. But it was a fire that would not go out until it died. I cried out, my nostrils filling with the smell of brimstone and scorched flesh. Even if the fire could not burn through my armour, I could still feel the metal searing my skin.

With a shout, I extended my sword arm as far as I could and stabbed the demon in the side, scalding steam hissing from the wound. Before I could be crushed beneath the demon's writhing form, the weight of it vanished when Thor grabbed it by the neck and tossed it aside.

Trundling forwards, Volstagg slew the demon with the single swing of his axe. Gratitude on the tip of my tongue, I noticed another demon encroaching from behind him. My eyes widened as I registered that his axe was stuck embedded in the dead demon at his feet. He wouldn't have the time to take a swing.

"Volstagg, get down!"

Devoid of hesitation, he heeded my words and dropped to a crouch. I scrambled to my feet and made a wide swing over his head, forcing the demon back. As it reared, I drew a dagger from my belt and threw it with every ounce of strength I had. It struck the demon's underbelly, sending it stumbling back further. Breath in my throat, I rushed headlong, thrusting my sword into the demon's eye.

Once I yanked my sword free, Volstagg patted my shoulder and urged me forwards to ensure we did not fall behind. "You have my thanks, Lady Eirlys," he said, sounding more jubilant than I thought anyone should at a time like this. "What a fine warrior you have become."

His good cheer seemed infectious, for I could not help replying in jest, "And a fine warrior you remain. I do wonder: have you grown more robust over the years?"

He let out a great chuckle, swatting aside a demon. "All the more to barrel through our enemies with."

Massive axe leading, Volstagg went careening into a trio of demons that had been closing in on Fandral. Even though he made quick work of the fiends, our efforts could not stem the tide.

In the span of a breath, I surveyed all that I could see. My instincts compelled me to search for Loki in the crowd first. He'd been at my side for all these months—we'd faced every fight together. But the fog here was too thick for me to see him, and it continued to grow thicker with the steam spewing from the fire demons.

With every demon we felled, a half-dozen more took its place. Sif was being driven back, swiping away the demons with the wide swing of her blade. Everyone else was veiled in the fog, save for Volstagg and the bare outline of two spirit warriors. Through the increasingly heavy fog, I was still able to discern the gleam of the fire demons. They were closing in on us, surrounding our entire company. Sword in hand, I sought to remedy that.

I swung down, the point of my sword tearing through the nearest fire demon's carapace, the hard shell falling away to expose the fiery flesh of the demon. Though the heat flared from its exposed body, I did not hesitate to stab into its chest with an upward thrust. The demon fell to the wayside, dead, and I moved onto the next.

Sif and I remained close to one another, taking turns darting forwards and back to dispatch demon after demon. Every so often, I had to pause and glance behind to ensure that we did not lose sight of the spirit warriors. Their silvery sheen outshone the fog, allowing us to stray just a little more without becoming lost.

As we continued tearing apart the steady flow of demons, their ranks seemed to change. Gone were the hunched ape-like fire demons, replaced now by bipedal creatures, their bodies also engulfed in flames. Smaller than the others, they stood no higher than my shoulder, their limbs gangly, ears long and pointed. _Imps_ , I thought, distantly. In my childhood, my nursemaid told me tales of Surtur and his armies falling at the hands of our people—the last great alliance between the Aesir and Vanir before they went to war with one another. Chief among Surtur's soldiers were imps, silly devilish creatures that tossed orbs of fire. Perhaps they were not so silly after all, for tossing orbs of fire appeared to be just what they were doing.

Ears ringing, I dove to one side, landing hard on my shield arm just as several orbs of fire flew overhead. Sif had jumped in the other direction, and now the encroaching demons moved in to separate us. Panic thrummed in my veins. Letting my sword clatter to the ground, I held my palms inches apart and called forth every trace of magic I had within me. Much like the first few times I wielded my magic, it twisted my insides, tugged on the strands of my heart. It was no easy feat to cast the same spells I once brandished without a thought, but I had little choice as the demons began to overwhelm us.

My hands shuddered as I unleashed the full extent of my might, the bright blue wave sweeping across the ground, knocking back a dozen imps. In an instant, an ache spread through my torso in waves. Gritting my teeth, I pushed past it and blinked away the dots that threatened to steal my vision. As soon as the light dissipated, the demons who remained froze in place, their gazes turning on me all at once. Every pair of eyes glowed in the pall, focussing solely on me.

To my astonishment, one of them spoke. " _Sorceress_."

The voice was heavy and resonate, rumbling deep within my chest—it was a voice that I did not think I could ever forget.

"Surtur," I murmured.

Several feet to my right, Sif looked at me, eyes growing wide. "I don't know what's more frightening: that he speaks to us or that he speaks to us through _them_."

" _There you are_ ," another imp said in the same baritone. " _I have been hoping to see you_."

" _Hoping to kill you_."

His voice sounded from the fog as the imps inched closer, steady yet wary of us and our blades. Sif hurried closer, grabbing my elbow to help me stand, my feet struggling to cooperate. I scrambled to retrieve Silvertongue, the imps continuing to speak in turn, Surtur's words coming from all sides.

" _I will pierce your heart_."

" _Rend the flesh from your bones_."

" _YOU WILL BURN_."

My racing pulse seemed to come to an abrupt halt when the last imp who'd spoken leapt at me, flaming claws outstretched. Hand still on my elbow, Sif shoved me back and spun about on her heel, Drekisbane slicing clean through my assailant. But, in the time she'd taken to defend me from harm, the rest of the demons drew too near for her to evade.

A fiery claw bore down on her sword arm, tearing open her skin and burning her flesh. Though she did not cry out from the strike, she loosed a shout as she shifted on her heel again to beat back her attacker with her shield. The moment the demon hit the ground, I sprang into action, raising my hand to blast the next nearest imp.

Nothing happened.

Nothing save for the painful wrench in my chest, the core of my magic straining to right itself. I'd already overextended myself with the first wave of energy I unleashed moments before. Attempting to do it again so soon would have only reversed all that I'd been desperately hoping would heal. Instead, I swung my sword wide, clipping several imps, the downward swipe sending one of them careening to the ground.

With Sif's sword arm injured and bleeding, she used only her shield to fend off the demons. It was minimally effective, buying us barely enough time to glance back at the spirit warriors and take a step or two towards them. Despite our efforts to keep pace with our allies, we gradually fell behind, the silvery sheen of the spirits growing fainter with every imp we were forced to stop and face lest our enemies swamp us completely.

"Eirlys, you must go," Sif exclaimed, her voice scarcely rising above the crackle of flames and the screeching of dying imps. We slaughtered demons at a constant rate, but we both knew that would not last. My arms were beginning to tire, my lungs burning from both exhaustion and the heated air. "I will hold them back. You must go on, otherwise we will both fall too far behind and become lost to the fog."

I shook my head, all but scoffing at the suggestion. "As much as you wish to die in the midst of glorious battle, I'm not allowing that to happen this day."

Using her shield to throw aside every imp that sought to leap at us, Sif let out a breath of laughter. "Fair enough."

But the humour died on her lips when a tremendous screech sounded much too close for comfort. We both lifted our heads to see one of the larger demons barrelled past the imps, heading straight for us with singleminded purpose. If we hadn't been surrounded by imps, there might have been a chance for us to move from its path in time. Alas, the number of demons had scarcely lessened since I blasted them back minutes earlier. And, with the demon charging at us, I had to do it again.

With so little time, I slashed back a handful of imps before pressing my left fist to my chest. My whole body shuddered as I summoned my magic, pain increasing tenfold, the feel of it akin to my heart consuming itself. Gritting my teeth, I let loose a burst of blue, the bolt soaring over the head of several imps to collide with the larger demon, the impact sending it and demons around it flying backwards to disappear into the fog.

What I did not expect was the sudden loss of strength. The use of magic hadn't weakened me in decades. I'd forgotten the way my limbs grew heavy and numb, my vision tunnelling, pulse pounding so loudly in my ears it drowned out everything else. _If I lose consciousness now, we're both going to die_. I stumbled back, fighting to remain on my feet, fighting to keep the shadows from consuming my vision.

"Eirlys!"

The sizzle and _bang_ of lightning filled my senses as my legs gave way, a steady hand coming to grip my arm. "I've got you." _Thor._ He'd found us—rather, the Light Elf archers launching arrows into demons beside him found us. "We saw the demons converging on the same place. Converging on you, it seems."

"They were targeting me," I muttered, leaning against him to regain my strength. "Because of my magic."

With a frown, he turned his head to exchange a look with Sif, giving me a view of the terrible gash on his brow, blood streaming in steady rivulets from the open wound. "We best rejoin the others," he said. "I don't know how much longer we can keep doing this."

"At this rate, not much longer," Sif remarked, hurrying past a spirit archer to take my other arm. "We just need to keep moving."

Together, we turned round to find our companions, one of the archers scampering ahead to lead us through the haze. With every step we took, my mind seemed to clear a little more. We had to keep fighting. I had to keep moving forward. The Nine Realms were depending on us. Taking as deep a breath as possible, I straightened and nodded to my friends. Never speaking, they both let go, and we continued dashing into the fog, scores of demons in our wake.

It was not long before we gained on our allies. The spirit warriors appeared to be keeping an unwavering pace, though their numbers had lessened. Loki was the first to notice our return. In the blink of an eye, he was standing before me, shoulders rising and falling far faster than normal. As his gaze flitted over me, I did the same to him, observing his injuries in a mere second: burns on his skin, particularly his hands; he was equipped with a dagger and little else.

"You should bring a spear next time," I quipped.

He cast me a look of utter vexation before throwing his dagger at a nearby demon, killing it instantly. "I think I'm quite all right."

But something in his expression changed when his eyes found mine, as though he suddenly beheld a worrisome sight. Brow furrowed, he reached up to cup my cheek. "What happened? I couldn't find you—the demons swarmed us."

A chill filled my veins when I recalled Surtur's voice issuing forth from the demons, but any thought of mentioning it ended abruptly.

Another wave of demons encroached upon us—on our left, as well as from behind. Before, we'd been able to battle them back. Now, they spilled from the fog, their numbers countless, our company slowed from exhaustion, the spirits' numbers dwindling. I stayed close to Loki, my arms shaking from the mere weight of my sword.

"We can't face them like this," Loki said, shifting to clasp my elbow. "We are beyond outnumbered, even with the spirits on our side."

I barely managed a nod before he tugged me about to follow the shard bearers. Whether or not they knew where to find a parting in the fog did not matter. We just needed to keep moving. We could not allow the demons to overwhelm us. Glancing back, I saw Thor and Sif running to our left, the army of imps not far behind.

The air grew ever more suffocating by the second. I could scarcely breathe as we ran, my vision blurring, darkening every so often. Beside me, Loki all but doubled over, clutching at his chest. This time, I was the one tugging on his arm, urging him forward.

Chaos roared all around us. Just as my muscles started to give out, the deep, thunderous rumble of a horn resounded in the air.

We skidded to a halt at the cries of the demons in our wake. When we realized our foes were no longer chasing after us, we looked round to see the dead rising from the fog. Beating the demons back, they formed a barricade to defend us.

In the midst of two dozen spirits, Thor and Sif located us. Together, we huddled close and kept our eyes on the sudden swell of the battle, the roars and distinct _crack_ of weapons against bone deafening. A familiar shout drew our attention forwards. Some yards away, half-shrouded by the fog, Volstagg and Fandral stood near the sword shard, brows furrowed. It appeared the spirit warriors had left it on the ground to engage the demons in battle.

We were relieved of our bewilderment the moment one among the Elves broke through the conflict to meet us, his bow nocked with an arrow.

"I apologize for having taken so long. We had a bit of trouble wading through the demons," Castien said, shooting down one imp that dared to approach us. "Let's go!"

None of us hesitated to follow. Loki and Thor rushed forth to help Volstagg and Fandral drag the sword shard. Sif and I remained on either side, weapons held before us with as much strength as we could muster. Darting out from the fog, an imp lurched at me, and I took off its head in a single blow, sizzling blood spattering the ground. Castien led us further across the barren land, dispatching demons ahead with his seemingly infinite supply of arrows, the feathers a streak of colour as he let them fly.

After what felt like a lifetime of running, it seemed as though I could breathe again when I saw a breach in the fog ahead. In spite of the disorder, the spirits had been guiding us in the right direction after all. "There," Castien said, nodding towards our goal. It was a small space, but it gave us a view of the sky nevertheless.

That was all we needed.

"You have our utmost gratitude, Prince Castien," Thor managed to say before hurrying along with the sword shard.

As they went, Loki offered Castien a curt nod of acknowledgement.

While Sif followed close behind them, I lagged in their wake alongside Castien. By some miracle, the tide of demons had waned, granting us a moment of calm, but there was no doubting they would emerge again soon. "If we succeed in surviving this ordeal, this will likely be the last time I see you," I told him.

He nodded, his eyes glistening in a strange ghostly light. "I would have you tell my family— Driana and Faradei... and my son... Tell them that I love them." The hint of a smile graced his features. "But I suspect they know that quite well by now."

"I will tell them again," I promised.

In the few spare seconds we had, Castien leaned down to kiss my cheek. "You have always been a good friend, Eirlys. I wish you a long life and the best of happiness."

I inhaled shakily, battling the tears that threatened to fall. "May the Norns grant you peace, my friend."

As he bowed his head in response, I gave one last quavering smile and turned away to rejoin my friends. Remaining where he stood, Castien pivoted on his heel to let fly an arrow at an approaching demon. Despite the celerity with which he launched his arrows, several demons slipped past him.

Sword gripped in both hands, I swiped aside two of them in quick succession before reaching our company. Sif had already joined the effort to conduct the sword shard forward, and I moved to do the same. Grasping the fragment, I hissed through my teeth when my fingers brushed a sharp edge, my skin breaking and bleeding. Even so, I did not stop. I did not let go.

The further we went, nearing the breach in the fog, the louder the snarls of the demons became. Through the thin mists, I could see them more clearly to our right, rushing straight for us.

"Hurry, hurry," Fandral muttered. "We best hurry."

"You don't," Thor said between strained drags, "need to tell us."

Heart thundering, muscles seizing, I struggled the breathe. The demons were drawing ever nearer, even with the spirits to stand in their way. We hauled the sword shard forward, some among us crying out from the effort. The break in the fog was just feet away, but it struck me as being the longest few feet the Nine Realms had ever seen. We heaved. _Again_. We heaved. _One more time_. The enemy was closing in. They were less than three yards behind. We heaved once more. The light of the stars shimmered just above us.

Thor peered up into the skies and shouted, "Heimdall, NOW!"

The demons were less than a yard from us when the light descended at long last. With a haste greater than anything I'd experienced before, it wrested us from the world. Light and darkness smeared together on either side, and within seconds, we found ourselves in the heart of the Bifrost observatory.

The moment our feet touched the ebony floor, every one of us collapsed, the sword shard hitting the ground with a sharp _clang_. In the silence of the Bifrost, nothing could be heard aside from our coughs and gasps. Above us, Heimdall yanked his sword from the pedestal, deactivating the Bifrost to ensure that no demon could follow.

"I was beginning to worry," he said, the sound of his weighty voice bringing more comfort than I ever expected. "The length of your absence was unexpected."

"How long have we been gone?" Volstagg asked.

"Near fifteen hours."

"By the Norns," Sif breathed. "I can scarcely believe we escaped. And with the sword shard, no less."

Propping myself up on the heels of my hands, I looked about the chamber to observe my friends. All were accounted for. And all were a little singed, tendrils of smoke wafting from each of us. At the fore of our company, Fandral started to laugh, flopping onto his back, his eyes drifting shut as though he were prepared to sleep on the floor of the observatory.

"We must be rid of this shard once and for all," Thor declared, climbing to his feet. Even he appeared exhausted, staggering a bit to the left, blood streaked across the entire right side of his face.

"Wait." Loki rose up on one knee, hand outstretched. Everyone else froze in place, ceasing their floundering on the floor to look upon him in confusion. "Must we be so quick to destroy it? Has anyone ever considered the possibility that the sword shards could be used to our advantage?"

The others in the observatory exchanged glances, but I looked down at the shard and, in the quietude, I could clearly perceive the object's power. It was a dark energy, strong enough for me to sense in my weakened state. Perhaps there was some validity to his question. A power such as that of the sword shard was too potent to go ignored. And yet it was still a source of danger and darkness.

"Had the urgency of our circumstance been any different, then perhaps we could have found the time to make a thorough examination," Heimdall said, peering down at the shard with a discerning eye. "But I sense the magic in this shard. It is not unlike the magic that powers this observatory."

"Portal magic." I frowned and nodded. "That was how Surtur used the remainder of his blade to open a path on Midgard—it's in every shard."

"Indeed." With a nod, Heimdall turned his gaze towards the opening at the fore of the observatory once more. "I fear that the demons may be drawn to it. Worse still, our enemies could find a way to harness the power from afar. There is no knowing the connection Surtur has to the pieces of his Twilight Sword."

I met Loki's gaze then, brow cinched. "You're right, there is much power that can be harnessed from the shards of the Twilight Sword. But Surtur would always be better able to utilize it than we ever could. That is a risk we cannot take."

After a moment, Loki too nodded in assent—a somewhat reluctant assent but assent nevertheless. "Destroy it."

As no further protest or delay was made, Sif got to her feet, stooping to help me. The rest of our group, save Fandral, stood and moved to wait near the entrance of the Bifrost. "Come along, Fandral," Volstagg said. "You can find the strength to stand. The rest of us have."

Fandral did not move. "I cannot. I should not have lay on the floor. Now I do not have the energy to sit, let alone stand."

For the first time in a long while, I heard Thor chuckle. He strode forth and grasped both of Fandral's arms, dragging him along the shining black marble to rest behind the pedestal.

As Heimdall went about recalibrating the Bifrost, I sidled past Volstagg to find Loki. Never before had he looked so exhausted and still been able to stand. His complexion was at its palest, the shadows under his eyes mingling with the occasional abrasion. Bowing my head, I took his hands within mine, the burns along his otherwise pallid skin making my stomach churn.

"You look as though you've just faced Surtur himself," he said, his voice soft—tired, really.

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't seem to have the energy. "I feel like it," I replied, swallowing dryly. With a breath, I lifted my eyes to find his. "Are _you_ all right?"

The furrow in his brow lessened as he turned his head to gaze through the aperture in the Bifrost, staring out across the endless dark. "One of these days, I might be."

"One of these days?" I said, quirking a brow. "Well, I must say, that's very optimistic of you."

At that, he returned his regard to me, eyes gleaming, the smallest of smirks tugging at his features. We were not dead. And neither were our spirits. Not yet, at least.

Beneath our feet, the Bifrost began to tremble. Side by side, we watched the observatory spin, the speed increasing with every revolution. In an abrupt flash, the sword shard was sent soaring from the Bifrost, through the depths of the Cosmos, to sit in the core of a massive dying star. Whether or not it could be destroyed by such heat—or the eventual black hole it would spawn—we would never know. At any rate, we felt assured that Surtur would never know either.

We had one less shard to worry about now. All the same, my heart twisted at the thought.

There were still several dozen more left.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Even if you only have a few seconds, please take a moment to leave a review. I love hearing from you, dear readers!


	8. Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I'd like to thank each and every reviewer, as well as all the readers who have favourited or alerted. You guys are awesome.

Sorry for the long wait. School has just started up for me again, so the past couple of weeks have been overwhelmed with work and homework. Hopefully everything will settle down into routine soon, so I can have a little more time to work on this fic!

As many of you were hoping for, Loki and Eirlys get to have a moment to themselves in this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

 **EIGHT**

* * *

 _somewhere a clock is ticking_

* * *

The sensation of the cool breeze dancing through my hair had me pausing on the side of the road, eyes closed to its delicate caress. It was quiet here, on the path from the palace to the nearest tavern. Few Asgardians trod the road now, most having either reached the tavern already or opted to stay safely in their homes, waiting for the crisis to pass.

With a deep breath, I continued my journey, limbs heavy and muscles aching beyond compare.

Alighted by rows of torches, shadows pranced along the walls. The sun had long since set, and the hour was most certainly late, but I was determined to reach my destination.

Footsteps light and swift, I drew near to the tavern, yet the sight of Thor exiting the establishment had me stopping for a second time. Dressed in his dark grey cloak, he lingered in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. I stepped forwards, a greeting poised on my tongue, but he started down the road before I was able to speak.

Hand to my chest, I watched him take the stairs to the road the would lead him to the Rainbow Bridge. Once he disappeared from sight, I let my eyes lower to the ground. I did not have to guess as to what drew him to the Bifrost this time of night. And so, I left him be, turning to enter the tavern.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sheer noise was the first thing that bombarded my senses. It brimmed with laughter and music and the distinct _thunk_ of mugs of ale being slammed onto every available surface. As the sea of people swelled and undulated, I had to push through, clutching at my skirts to keep anyone from tripping on the hem.

I paced around the edge of the tavern, passing by pairs of gleeful dancers. The full volume of the music put a strain on my ears and vibrated in my chest, forcing me to quickly distance myself from the musicians. Nearer to the heart of the tavern, I spotted Volstagg sitting alongside Hildegund. Meeting my gaze through the crowd, he lifted his mug of ale and cheered in greeting before returning to his captive audience. Though I could catch only the occasional word through the rising din, I knew he was telling tales of our time in Niffleheim. No one had ever gone to the realm of the dead and come back alive. Already, it was becoming a legend, with more than a little help from Volstagg's embellishments.

Fandral sat at the next table over, absolutely dominating a drinking game that he was playing with several Einherjar—the very Einherjar who'd been assigned to escort our company throughout Asgard. Stopping to stand in the midst of the celebration, I felt the urge to laugh. The threat of Ragnarök remained, and yet the merriment was ever loud and raucous. Even in spite of the late hour, children ran about, screaming in delight, Volstagg and Hildegund's rambunctious offspring chief among them.

Perhaps it wasn't so strange. If all in the Nine Realms would end soon, that meant there was more reason to celebrate the smallest of victories. Why leave this mortal coil in a cloud of misery when one could be merry?

Not far from Volstagg's table, Sif stood, her attention on him rapt as he began to describe the abhorrent fire demons we'd encountered. After a moment, she noticed my presence and made her way over, shoving through the crowd with an impatient hand. For once, she wore a dress as opposed to the armour I'd thought to be a permanent fixture since Loki and I had returned to Asgard. Of course, the bandage on her mostly healed sword arm served as the constant reminder of the war hanging over our heads.

"You know, I always dreamed tales would be told of our adventures," Sif said, sounding a touch more pensive than I expected. "Somehow, it doesn't seem so satisfying when we are being praised for doing what is required of us—when we have no guarantee of surviving the coming days. What if our efforts are for naught?"

I curled my arms around my midsection and shook my head. "I refuse to think as such."

"As do I. It's just..." Sif trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We were extremely fortunate on Niffleheim. If it hadn't been for the warriors from Valhalla—or Queen Frigga—who knows how we would have fared."

There was no refuting that. We had been lost in the fog for far too long to begin with. Surtur's demons could have slain us all right then. "You're right. The path ahead seems impossible, but we cannot allow ourselves to despair. We will succeed at nothing if we cannot hope."

Sif smiled softly, her gaze sweeping around the room. "At the least, the citizens of Asgard are not so willing to give in to despair." Despite the heaviness of our conversation, the celebration seemed to have grown louder, if at all possible. I blamed the dwindling number of casks of ale. "Asgardians do not work well in the absence of good cheer."

At the sight of a tavern keeper passing by with a tray of mugs, Sif darted forth to grab two. When she imparted one to me, I nodded in thanks and took a deep drink of the honeyed ale.

Before she drank, she lifted her mug to me in salute. "You fought well, despite your lack of magic."

I had to smile, even as my stomach churned with sickness. I sensed that Sif meant to reassure me, to indicate that I had skill enough to battle Surtur's forces despite not having the full extent of my powers. But it hurt to be reminded of it. My spells would have been a great boon at a time like this, but I could only push myself so far. In the end, I said nothing in return.

Although the two of us sank into a companionable silence, the clamour all around us more than made up for it. It was nice, steeping in the gaiety, as much as it was beginning to make my head pound. For a time, I could pretend that everything was fine. That we would succeed. That this was somehow a celebration of our victory.

Even so, the feeling never lasted.

With one final swig, Sif finished her honeyed ale and left the mug on the table behind us. Clearing her throat, she cast a glance about the room, a small frown shadowing her features. "I have not yet had the opportunity to speak with Thor since we returned," she said. "Seeing the queen again was not... easy for any of us. I worry for him."

I bit the inside of my cheek, uncertain of how to respond. Apparently, my hesitation was answer enough for her.

In the clangour of the tavern, the only indication that she sighed was the rise and heavy fall of her shoulders. "He's gone to the Bifrost observatory, hasn't he?"

I canted my head. "How did you know?"

Her eyes dropped to the ground. "In the past year, he has visited the observatory often at night. There is only one world that holds his concern, even now."

The great roaring racket of cheers rose above all else, bringing our conversation to an abrupt halt. Fandral stood at his table, slamming down another pair of mugs, much to the chagrin of the Einherjar opposite him.

No matter how dampened her spirits were, Sif still managed a chuckle. As Fandral began seeking his next opponent, she turned to me and said, "I think I might challenge him next. I do love a good game of Queen's Gambit. Would you join us?"

Hastily, I shook my head. "No, I fear I have never held my alcohol well."

Sif inclined her head in return. "Then I shall see you in due course."

I wished her good fortune before she moved to join Fandral, taking the seat across from him without preamble. Alone in the cacophony, I downed the remainder of my honeyed ale, the sweetness lingering on my tongue. With a long exhale, I placed my mug beside the one Sif had left behind and turned to obtain another.

However, as I turned, I found myself unable to make the trek towards the tavern keeper. Not with the very tiny person careening into my legs.

When she stumbled back, her wild copper hair flying about like an explosion, it did not take long for me to recognize Volstagg and Hildegund's youngest.

She blinked up at me, wide eyes growing wider. "Eirlys!"

"Hello, Gudrun." I dropped to one knee, the skirts of my pale blue dress flaring around me. "It is very lovely to see you again."

Pushing her unruly hair from her face, she beamed up at me. "Papa told me you saved him from the demons."

I clamped my lips shut to keep from laughing. "Well, I was merely returning the favour."

"But you saved him," she insisted. "Are you certain you are not a shieldmaiden?"

This time, I could not suppress my laughter. "If you believe it to be true, I do not think I can refute it any longer."

Gudrun nodded, her fluffy curls billowing with the movement. "Papa says he'll have to go fighting again," she told me. "I don't like it when he goes fighting."

My heart grew heavy at the thought of Gudrun worrying after her father every time he left Asgard. It reminded me of the days I feared for my father when he left the castle to engage in skirmishes with foreign marauders. I would sit by the window overlooking the bailey, watching and waiting for him to return safely. After the death of my mother, it seemed he was absent more often than not. I stopped waiting for him then.

Swallowing thickly, I gave voice to a vow that I hadn't any idea I could keep. "I will not let anything happen to your papa. I promise."

Her eyes lit up, and she flew forward to envelop me in a hug. "Thank you."

I let my shoulders sag as I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her in return. Over her shoulder, I peered into the shadows of the nearest column. In those shadows, there stood a familiar figure. _Loki._ I lifted a brow at him. Perhaps the darkness was playing tricks on my eyes because it looked as though he was smiling.

When I drew away from Gudrun, I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You best run along. It appears your friends are awaiting you." I gave a nod in the direction of the half-dozen children trying to garner her attention, waving about their little wooden swords. "I will do what I can to look after your father."

With one last smile, she darted across the tavern to join her friends, taking up a shield that looked to be just as tall as she was.

A shaky breath escaped my lips before I rose to my feet. In two easy strides, I joined Loki in the shadows, my eyes locking with his. Without a word, he reached out to me and curled his fingers over the curve of my waist. "I must admit, I am quite surprised to see you here," I said, struggling to be heard above the musicians who were a mere yard from where we stood. "You never had much fondness for such celebrations, especially after the Asgardians became less than fond of you."

The slight smirk he'd been sporting vanished, and I grimaced, berating myself for having brought up his sordid past _again_.

Cheeks burning, I lifted a hand to toy with the necklace that was no longer there. "I... um, it's rather odd to see everyone in such great cheer, is it not?" I said, letting my arm fall back to my side. "But it's not unpleasant, to see everyone dancing in spite of the circumstances."

He quirked a brow at me. "You're not going to pester me for a dance, are you?"

The first booming notes of a jig began right then. As I watched the dancers make their leaps and kicks in time to the music, I could not keep from dissolving into laughter at the image of Loki doing such a dance. "No, not today," I replied through a grin. "But I would have you take a drink with me."

In response, he cast me one of his most endearing smirks. "I would never deny you that."

Eager for another pint of honeyed ale, I grasped his hand to steer him towards to the bar. But the feel of the rough bandages wrapped around his palm gave me pause. Brow cinched, I turned back to him and trailed my fingertips along his overturned hand. "Who bandaged your hands?"

"No one familiar to me," he said. "An apprentice healer, perhaps?"

I huffed and shook my head. "Loki, I can tell that this was wrapped using one hand." His jaw clenched while I took both his hands in mine to observe his handiwork. "Why did you not go to the healing room? Without proper treatment, these burns will take far too long to heal."

He avoided my gaze. "It would have been a waste of time."

"Lurking in the tavern is certainly not a _better_ use of time." At first, I assumed he was being prideful, refusing to seek treatment in a show of strength. But the true reason seemed weightier than that. My heart dipped the moment I understood. _Frigga_. The house of healing roused too many memories of Frigga. Nevertheless, he still needed to be treated. "I shall take you to the healing room and properly bandage your wounds myself."

Though he smiled, I could not say what it was that amused him so. "Oh? Good, I'm glad. All this noise was beginning to give me a terrible headache."

His hand in mine, I gave him a wry look before leading him from the tavern. He was not wrong about one thing: the stark silence outside was a great relief.

With the sun long since set, there was a chill in the air. The stars and the moons were in full bloom, illuminating the city in a pale blue. We crossed paths with few Asgardians, and yet none of them attempted to hide their wary glances. Their disdain. I shrank under their regard despite not knowing whether their stares were due to the part we played in Surtur's rise or Loki's past crimes.

"I wouldn't concern myself with them, if I were you," Loki said, pointedly ignoring a couple that threw us cold looks. "You become accustomed to the scowls after a time." As much as I appreciated his aplomb, I remained discomfited by their glowering.

As we continued onwards to the palace, I pressed close to Loki's side and tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. He gave me a curious look but said nothing. It was a peculiar feeling, the two of us walking along the promenade that overlooked the water, as though we were husband and wife. As though we were normal Asgardians.

I lowered my eyes, chewing on my bottom lip. "If it ever seems like I denigrate you for what you have done in the past—"

"Eirlys, there's no need." Face impassive, he kept his gaze on the road ahead. "You speak only the truth."

"Well... yes, but that does not mean you need to be reminded of it every hour of every day."

Loki looked at me then. "You think me so fragile?"

"Fragile?" I chuckled. "No, not fragile. But neither are you made of stone."

In the ghostly light of the moon, I thought I saw him smile. "You're right," he said. "I most certainly am not."

The rest of our walk to the healing room brimmed with peace and quiet, so long as one did not dwell upon our impending doom.

In the dead of night, the house of healing was deserted. It might not have been surprising to most, but I knew there should have been at least two healers present at all times. Simply assuming that they were attending patients in the other chamber, I strode further in, Loki in tow, and sat him on the bed nearest to the cabinet of curative supplies.

After acquiring a fresh jar of salve and clean bandages from the cabinet, I dragged a chair across the floor to sit opposite him. Head bowed, I took his hands into my lap and unwrapped his haphazardly applied bandages. Once both his hands were free, I squinted at his burns, red and mottled and blistered. They seemed worse than that of everyone else who had faced the fire demons. I thought perhaps he had closer contact with them, but that could not have been the case. Loki was too swift for that. Perhaps his burns were worse because of his Jotun physiology? Those immune to the cold could possibly have been more vulnerable to the heat.

Uncertain, I shook my head. When he lifted a brow at me, I quipped, "I keep having to bandage your hands, it seems. You are most fortunate you have me to look after you."

"Don't ever think I'm not aware of that."

The unexpected gravity of his tone compelled me to stop and meet his gaze. Though his expression did not shift, his eyes did seem to glint in the moonlight. Perhaps there was humour underlying the statement, but that did not change the fact that Loki was being sincere—at least, as sincere as he was capable of being. My cheeks flushed under his regard before I ducked my head again to continue tending his injuries.

Gentle as can be, I applied the salve to his skin, the sickly sweet smell tickling my nose. The bracers he'd worn on Niffleheim seemed to have lessened the damage the further I went, tugging up the sleeves of his shirt. After wiping the salve from my fingers, I took the long strips of bandaging and wrapped his hands securely but not too tightly.

When I was finished, I cradled his hands in mine and peered up at him. "Your burns should heal in a few hours. Hopefully, you won't accrue new ones before then."

I spoke only in jest, but he did not appear to be listening. He was staring off at something—something just over my shoulder. Blinking, I followed his line of sight. Through the gloom, I spied a desk in the corner of the room. Atop that desk sat a tattered book of potions, well used and timeworn. It was a book I knew. It had belonged to Frigga.

My chest ached as I looked back at him, allowing our entwined hands to rest together on his knees. Since we returned from Niffleheim, I had been wondering how he—and Thor, for that matter—had been affected by seeing Frigga. Did it feel like losing her all over again? Did the chance to say goodbye make them feel any better or any worse? I hadn't known how to broach the subject. In truth, I did not even know how _I_ felt.

But, seeing him now, I was driven to enquire. "On Niffleheim, before we parted ways with Frigga, you... you apologized. What were you apologizing for?" I dropped my eyes to the ground in an instant, an unpleasant heat creeping up the back of my neck. "I... you don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have asked."

He gave me a pointed look. "You seem to think me as fragile as a piece of glass, so delicately you treat me."

I responded with the lift of a brow. "Can you blame me for erring on the side of caution?"

At that, he loosed a breath that sounded as much like a laugh as it did a sigh. When he uttered nothing in response, I assumed that I'd been right to believe it was not a topic upon which he wished to dwell. But, after a moment of hesitation, he spoke. "During my time in the dungeons, I imparted a variety of unkind words to her. I do not make my apologies lightly, remember."

The corner of my mouth lifted ever so slightly. "I am well aware."

His eyes lingered on Frigga's ragged tome before shifting to meet my gaze. "I thought to amend at least one thing before the end."

I frowned and canted my head. "Do you really think this to be the end?"

"Never would I concede defeat." His fingers tightened around my own, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. "But it's become glaringly obvious that our chances are minimal and lessening with every second. Surtur is gathering the shards of the Twilight Sword, and if he reforges at least half of it, then we will all be in a very grave circumstance. At this rate, Surtur might already have won."

Hearing him state it so plainly caused me to draw away from him. Averting my eyes, I tugged my fingers through the tangled mess that was my hair and tried to think of some dismissive reply. Some way to deny that we could all be dead in the next day. The next hour. The next minute. But I knew it to be true. It was a thought that crossed my mind, more than once: what hope did we have against a two-hundred-foot-tall god of fire who predated the universe itself?

In the face of everything, my conviction had begun to dwindle. I just didn't want to admit it.

"I'm surprised," he said, not sounding surprised in the slightest. "No optimistic retort?"

I gave a short, sardonic laugh. "Not today."

Loki raised his eyes and stared out the glass doors to the herb garden. "We have faced worse odds."

The remark sounded like an absurd lie. "Oh, have we?"

He hummed. "A poor lie. It seems my skill at it has been under-practiced of late."

"I don't consider that a bad thing," I replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Be that is it may, you did a sound job deceiving Malekith. Even I thought for a moment that you would acquiesce his deal."

"The best lies have a sliver of truth to them."

My whole body seemed to retreat into the heavily cushioned chair upon which I sat when I realized what he meant. Even so, I could not be angry with him. I could not blame him for thinking it. This was not the first time that he considered such a recourse. He'd once asked me to vanish with him into the Nine Realms as the fate of Alfheim and Asgard hung in the balance. In this instance, however, the notion was scarcely entertained. What was of import was that he did not bargain with Malekith.

Closing my eyes, I nodded. "No matter what happens—no matter the outcome of this war—I am glad you did not accept Malekith's proposal."

"Now he's simply another among the many with designs to destroy us in our entirety."

"And he has the Aether." With a shaky breath, I pressed a hand to my brow. "How do we expect to succeed when most of what we've done has only made things worse?"

Without warning, he grabbed my hand and twined his fingers with mine. "Our chances are minimal, not non-existent."

I blinked at him, my breath catching in my throat. Loki was giving me hope. The tiniest shred of hope. But that was all we really needed. The will to go on. Even if I was tired. So tired. Just as he was. Regardless of the sound sleep we'd found the night before, he was as pale as ever, eyes sunken and stark against the dark shadows beneath them. I couldn't say whether he looked worse now or when the Red Skull tortured him for days on end—at the least, this time, he was awake and coherent and far less damaged.

"Minimal, but not non-existent," I repeated. "That is something." My smile grew a little wider, and I leaned in to bestow upon him a chaste kiss. "I... thank you, for saying as much. I think I needed to hear that. Especially from you."

When I did not move away, our shallow breaths mingled and we both fell silent. Being so near to him, my skin grew warmer—a sensation that had nothing to do with the warmth of his own body. Fingers itching to touch more of him, I caressed the back of his hand, seeking uncovered flesh. With only the distant rustle of greenery to fill the air, the sudden thundering of my heart overwhelmed my senses.

 _Would we ever have a moment like this again?_

With one of his hands still wrapped around mine, he reached out with the other to steady himself on the armrest of my chair. Our gazes never parting, he swept forward to press his mouth to my own. I made a soft sound of surprise, but I did not hesitate to return his kiss, tightening my hold on his hand, the rough fabric of his bandages tickling my palm.

My chair jerked as he pulled me close, my knee wedged between his. I sighed, welcoming the smooth glide of his tongue. He stroked deeper, drawing a moan from me the moment his cool fingers snaked up my skirt, curling around the back of my knee. His opposite hand reached out to grasp my waist, and he pulled me to him until I was practically straddling his thigh.

His lips left mine to lay kisses across my jaw, down my neck and the swell of my breast. When I opened my eyes next, my ears burned hot. "Wait, stop." I pushed against his shoulders to put some distance between us. The sight of him breathing heavily—his lips parted and eager for more—sent a delectable heat coiling through the lowest parts of my abdomen. "We shouldn't—not here."

Loki smirked; the effect was disarming, if only because he was prone to not heeding much of what he was told. But I would not let him deter me. "Why should we not?" he asked, cupping my backside to draw me ever nearer. It took a great deal of willpower not to buck my hips. "There's a bed right here."

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I tried not to smile while I nodded over his shoulder. "There's a healer right there."

Brow raised, he cast a glance behind. A healer— _Lyress_ , I registered much too slowly—was just entering the room. There was another at her heels, this one an apprentice. They were both poring over a tome, neither of them noticing our presence in the room yet.

Although his hands fell away, leaving me feeling bare, he still chuckled. "Do you recall a certain drawing room that no one ever ventures into?"

My heart raced at the very thought; it was not far from the healing room. "I remember."

I stepped away from him and adjusted my dress, hoping I looked somewhat presentable before the pair of healers approached. In the blink of an eye, Loki got to his feet, towering over me. No further words needed to be exchanged. I started across the healing room, my skin warm, tingling in anticipation. He trailed just behind me, his gait measured and slow. Passing Lyress by, I granted her a courteous nod.

As soon as we exited the healing room, I grabbed his hand, and we headed straight for the drawing room at the end of the corridor.

If these were to be our last moments of peace, I would have us make the most of it. My muscles may have had plenty of aches already, but there was no harm in adding a few more.

* * *

With a muffled groan, I awoke from a sleep bereft of nightmares.

Seconds passed before I blinked the drowsiness from my eyes. We'd managed to return to our bedchamber in the dead of night without anyone ever noticing us prowling the palace halls. It did not take long for us to collapse into bed in a desperate bid for sleep. Now I was tucked into Loki's side, my fingers clenched in his loose green shirt. His body was angled towards me, arms around my waist.

The sun had already risen, casting a golden glow upon his otherwise wan features. For once, the shadows beneath his eyes had faded, and his burns were healed and banished by my liberal application of salve. In the quietude, he seemed serene. The weight of the horrors cumulated over time was gone for but a moment. Horrors of his own making. Horrors of what awaited us outside these four walls.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and laid my hand flat against his sternum. I felt the strange warmth trapped in his chest—a lingering thread of the Tesseract's energy, or so Frigga had said. With a sigh, I placed my palm over his heart to revel in the slow and steady rhythm of his pulse, the rise and fall that accompanied his every breath. Here and now, resting beside him, I could shut out everything. I didn't want to face the threat of Ragnarök anymore. In this room, I could forget all that we lost and all that we stood to lose. I could revel in him and only him, and that was all that mattered.

My eyes snapped open at the feel of his cool fingers threading through my hair. A faint smile played at his lips while his thumb caressed the shell of my ear. Shuddering at his touch, I shifted closer. "It's so quiet," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. "I don't ever want to leave this bed again. After all that has happened, I feel as though we haven't had a moment to ourselves in so very long."

"Oh?" He chuckled. "And what of last night?"

I hummed in response. "Perhaps that is why I crave your touch all the more."

His hand slid from my hair, trailing down my arm and past my hip, tickling my skin. Beneath the hem of my nightgown, he skimmed his fingers along the inside of my thigh. I inhaled sharply, my legs parting, and his eyes gleamed at my reaction. Tightening my hold on his shirt, I leaned up to claim his lips with mine. The kiss was languid and far gentler than those we shared the night before, when we'd both been tearing at each others' clothes in the abandoned drawing room.

Diverting his touch, I rose above him and settled my thighs on either side of him. He all but groaned at the roll of my hips and kissed me with renewed vigour, his hands encircling my waist.

The need for air forced us to part, yet he continued to kiss and nip along my jaw, his lips grazing my ear when he whispered, "The Einherjar are going to come for us any moment now."

"Verily." I laughed and ran my fingers over his temple. "If I wasn't aware of that, I would be far less clothed."

He drew back to look at me, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. "We're running out of time."

I hesitated, understanding full well that he was not talking about our time in the bedchamber. "I know."

As I met his sharp blue gaze in the light of the sun, any evidence of his levity vanished. Gone were his smirks and witty remarks, the lack of which made my whole frame quiver. Instead, he eyed me with great reverence, cupping my face between his hands. Was the gravity of our circumstance beginning to weigh on him? He would never say if it did, but I could see it. He could not maintain his facade of nonchalance with me. Not that he needed to; I'd seen him at his most vulnerable before, and he would have remembered that.

The instant I dipped my head down to kiss him once more, a heavy knock on my sitting chamber door thwarted me. I would have sighed in frustration, but a frantic shout from the Einherjar cut my breath short. "Lady Eirlys! Vanaheim is under siege!"

Before another word could be uttered, I threw aside the bedclothes and climbed off of Loki. Flying down the few steps from my bed, I hastened through my chambers. When I wrenched the door open, the Einherjar who'd spoken straightened and bowed his head. "How does the situation appear?" I asked, my voice steady despite the speed at which I'd ranged the room.

He seemed startled by my urgency, glancing sideways at his fellow Einherjar, before replying, "Not well. The... the demons have materialized in the north of Car... Cara—"

"Caravel," I breathed. _Home_ —at least, it once was. The castle and accompanying lands occupied by the rulers of Vanaheim were located in the region of Caravel. It was known for its wide open flower fields and hills, which I'd taken to horse riding through in my youth. To the south of Caravel was Indova, a province full of lush and plentiful plains where the forests grew strong. Between the two stood the Rohella Mountains, in which a shard of the Twilight Sword had been embedded long ago.

I almost started when Loki appeared beside me, pressing close to address the Einherjar. "What of their numbers?"

"Many—countless," the Einherjar replied. "The All-Father would meet you in the entrance hall along with Prince Thor and the other warriors."

"Then let us prepare," I said. "The sooner we act, the greater our chances of stopping Surtur's forces."

The Einherjar bowed low this time, and I shut the door with haste.

Upon turning, I saw that Loki was dressed, a belt of fresh daggers at his waist. I lifted a brow, curious as to how he mustered the speed to clothe himself in the few moments I spoke to the Einherjar. "I am glad you appreciate my admittedly impressive form," Loki quipped, "but I'm afraid we cannot delay much longer."

 _There's that smirk of his_. Even though I very much agreed with him, I could not refrain from rolling my eyes.

In the bedchamber, I slipped out of my nightgown and tossed it aside to prepare for battle. The process of equipping my armour proved far more expedient with Loki's assistance. His long fingers were nimble, tightening the buckles of my breastplate with ease, his hands lingering on my hips once he was done.

I donned my bracers and clipped my midnight blue cloak to my shoulders, the heavy cloth still slightly singed from the day before. As I fastened my sword belt around my waist, Loki came round to stand before me. When I looked up, he proffered a purple crystal, balanced perfectly between his forefinger and thumb—the purple crystal I gifted to Frigga long ago.

"You may benefit from carrying this," he said. "I did not think it to be of much use to you before, but it appears your magic is recovering faster than expected. This crystal may augment your abilities, even if it isn't as powerful as the green one."

I took the crystal from him and cradled it in my palm. He was right. Unlike several days past, I could feel the faint hum of magic emanating from the crystal, feel it flowing through me. It was something I'd taken for granted, when I had possessed my magic in its entirety. The crystals from Alfheim contained a magic I could draw from, albeit a fragmented sort of magic. "No necklace this time?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"I had little choice." He reclaimed the crystal and took hold of my right arm. "Moreover, you did destroy the last one, so I did not think it worth the effort."

We may have spoken of it in jest, but the memory of why it happened twisted at my heart.

With a gentle touch, he overturned my hand to slip the crystal into my glove, beneath my bracer. I could feel it there, pressed against the inside of my forearm. "You have my thanks," I said, "for bringing this to me."

He shook his head. "My mother would have wanted you to have it."

Softly, I smiled at the thought and pressed up on my toes to kiss him. Laying my hand on his cheek, I rested my brow against his. "Yes, I suppose she would have."

Now garbed and prepared for battle, we departed my chambers together.

The palace brimmed with the frantic clamour of activity as we paced its halls. The Einherjar who had delivered Odin's summons accompanied us, and they would continue to do so all the way to my home world. In the entrance hall, the Einherjar marched two by two, armed with the best weapons Asgard could provide. With the ability to react with a speed they hadn't been able to afford Alfheim, every able Asgardian was ready to come to Vanaheim's aid.

At the foot of the grand steps, Thor, Sif, and the warriors stood beside the All-Father. Upon our approach, Odin straightened a touch, but his enfeebled condition did not escape my notice. He leaned on Gungnir, the legendary spear serving as more of a walking stick than a weapon in recent times.

"I will speak plainly, as time is ever limited," the All-Father said. "In the face of what has befallen the Nine Realms, attempts to rally the realms have been made. Alfheim was the first to respond, in spite of the attack they endured, and King Faradei has pledged to offer assistance in our time of need. Thus, the Light Elves will meet you on Vanaheim. Together, the might of three realms will thwart the forces of flame and darkness."

Thor cast a sideways glance, brow cinched. "You are not to accompany us to Vanaheim? The circumstances are at their most dire."

Odin shook his head. "Asgard must remain protected no matter what comes to pass." From the slump of his shoulders, it seemed more likely he was staying behind to preserve his energy. Whatever the reason, his staying behind on Asgard might have been the wisest course of action. Should we fall or fail, he needed to lead whomever lived.

"Then the warriors shall heed your command on the battlefield," Sif told Thor.

Although a frown dimmed his features for but a moment, Thor conceded with a nod.

"Word has been sent to Vanaheim of your pending arrival. Lord Njord will speak with you there," Odin pressed on. "The Vanir have been attempting to dislodge the shard of the Twilight Sword for several days now. It may be some time before the task is complete."

Fandral grasped the hilt of his foil and stood tall. "I suppose that will be our goal yet again. Which means we'll be in the heart of the battle."

Sif quirked a brow at him. "Try not to sound too excited."

By this point, Loki rolled his eyes. "Whatever happened to time being ever limited?" he sneered. "If you are to wield us like a blunt weapon, then I'd rather we not waste more time with this incessant prattle." Meeting Odin's stoic gaze, he gave a pointedly exaggerated bow before turning to make his way down the entrance hall.

Despite the wide-eyed looks from several of my companions and the Einherjar among us, the All-Father's expression did not shift in the slightest. "You best be on your way," he said simply to the rest of us. Without another word, he turned to ascend the grand steps, a half-dozen Einherjar maintaining a respectful yet protective distance.

Pushing through the bustle of Einherjar, we moved to follow Loki.

"Are we ready for this?" Volstagg asked, holding his massive axe close as if it were a shield.

At his side, Fandral chuckled. "It can't be any worse than our venture into Niffleheim."

With a backwards glance, Thor met my gaze and slowed to match my stride. "You know these lands, do you not? What can you tell us about the sword shard?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Brow furrowed, I felt a chill run through my veins. "The shard is embedded in the Rohella Mountains, and it's gone mostly ignored over the millennia. It is far south from Caravel, in a region I did not often travel to."

"Are you all right, Eirlys?" Thor leaned nearer to me, as if to seek a better view of my expression. "Do you worry for your people?"

"I do." I lowered my eyes and swallowed dryly. "Surtur has untold numbers at his disposal, and it will be far more daunting without the mists of Niffleheim to provide us cover. There is no knowing if the Vanir can withstand such might."

He clapped my shoulder, his large fingers enveloping my shoulder guard. "We will see that they are kept from harm. I have confidence in us yet."

His words were encouraging, but his smile never seemed to reach his eyes anymore.

Just outside the grand entrance, a caravan awaited our party. Loki was already sitting inside, slouched casually in the corner, by the time the rest of us climbed in. Before Fandral could even settle on a seat, the caravan began to move, the sudden lurch nearly sending him to the floor. Discontent grumbling notwithstanding, we were soon well on our way to the Bifrost.

While travelling down the Rainbow Bridge, I garnered a clear view of the forces departing for Vanaheim. It was the largest host of Einherjar I'd seen the Asgardians muster in all my years. They marched the length of the bridge, some with horses, and even more of them took to the skies with skiffs.

In silence, we reached the Bifrost and waited just outside the observatory for our turn to be transported. Having been officially reinstated as gatekeeper, Heimdall continued to operate the Bifrost regardless of his acts of treason. Perhaps none matched Heimdall in power and wit enough to take his place. Or perhaps there was such turmoil that the All-Father could not find the opportunity to replace him. Either way, I was glad for it.

Our company entered the Bifrost along with a dozen Einherjar. We stood at the opening, staring into the endless dark of the Nine Realms. Somehow, my heart lifted at the sight—the Cosmos had not yet been engulfed in flame. The darkness was a cold that I could contend with.

"May the Norns favour you this day," Heimdall intoned.

In the next moment, he sent us soaring from the Bifrost and across the Nine Realms to reach Vanaheim at last.

Once we landed, I blinked and took in our surroundings, recognizing the wildflower fields immediately. It stretched on for leagues, a green sea of grass sprinkled with flowers of every colour imaginable. Under the gloomy sky, the brightest of hues became dreary. With all the warriors marching to and fro, the flora went forgotten and trodden upon. Had the matter at hand been any less urgent, I might have lamented their ill treatment. But the circumstances were grave indeed. The wildflowers would've been very fortunate not to be burned to a crisp by the end of the day.

A score of Vanir warriors passed us by, their sallow faces desolate and covered in soot. "Could the demons have already struck?" I asked Loki. "It does not seem possible for them to travel so far south of Caravel in the time it took us to arrive."

"It appears so." He glanced about, frowning. "Surtur's demons seem to move with a greater celerity than even we could anticipate."

I made to reply, but our attention was captured by another company of Vanir. They were conveying another warrior on a stretcher, his body burned and marred beyond anything I had ever seen. His armour had suffered the brunt of the attack, the steel dented and even melted in some places. With Asgardian care, he might've been able to recover, though he would bear terrible scars for the remainder of his life. His ruined flesh churned my stomach, and I had to look away.

Our group, newly arrived from Asgard, looked pristine compared to the Vanir warriors surrounding us. We wove between them, their faces becoming more and more grim the further we went. There was nothing but dirt and dust and blood. And yet, there was one spot of colour that drew my notice. Amongst the wounded, I saw our flag, the Vanir sigil burning brightly on the golden cloth—the sun, ever poised above our realm. Some said that it spoke to one's character, whether or not they believed the sun to be rising or setting on the banner. I always liked to think of it as the sun's rise.

Past the deluge of injured warriors, we soon found the assembly of world leaders. They stood gathered around a squat table that had a map of the area laid out in clear, dark lines. Lord Njord, the illustrious Lord of Vanaheim, led the council. His son and daughter, Lord Frey and Lady Freya, flanked him, their usual cheer replaced by grim determination. I spotted my father on Njord's right. He gave me a curt nod, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly at Loki who remained by my side.

Thor took his place across from Lord Njord, Mjolnir clutched tightly at his side. "Forgive us for not having come sooner."

"I am only glad that you are here now, Prince Thor," Njord replied with the reverent bow of his head.

Moving to take his place beside Thor, Loki scanned the map. "How fares the field of battle?"

Although Njord furrowed his brow at him for but a moment, he was not disinclined to answer. "King Faradei and his Elves scouted much of the area just prior to your arrival. The enemy have been spreading throughout Caravel," he reported. "They've been keeping to the east, away from the sea. Faradei estimates their numbers to be in the hundreds, though we fear that number continues to grow."

"Pushing against the demons may not be an option," Loki told them. "Their forces are countless, and they slip easily through the weakened veil. Until the Convergence passes completely, attempting to eliminate them all would require unnecessary effort."

I pressed forward to stand in full view of everyone in the small gathering, all eyes falling upon me at once. "During our encounter with Surtur's forces on Niffleheim, it has come to my attention that they are targeting sorcerers," I said. "I also suspect that they operate as a hive mind—they speak Surtur's words with Surtur's voice. They do not need to be given commands; they execute them without question, without thought. I fear this is the reason why they so easily navigated the fog on Niffleheim. They are far more coordinated than we could ever be."

Ill at ease, the Vanir among us exchanged disconcerted looks.

"Verily, these are grave tidings," Lord Frey said.

Standing tall with her long fingers wrapped around her elegantly carved staff, Lady Freya turned her gaze to me and nodded. "At the least, we are grateful that you are able to warn us." Though she was not renowned for her prowess in battle, the Lady Freya was a powerful sorceress in her own right. Her spells fuelled focus in her allies and disorientation in her enemies. On this day, I could only hope it would help sway the battle. "We shall hold the demons at bay until you retrieve the Twilight Sword shard. I will see that they are drawn to me."

"Even so, you will encounter a fair number of them on your way there, no matter the distraction we may provide." My father stepped closer to the map and ran his finger along the line separating Caravel and Indova. "The demons were last seen here, at the base of the Rohella Mountains. My warriors engaged with them in conflict before being forced to retreat. We can assume that they have travelled some ways up the mountainside by this point in time."

"Agreed," Thor said. "The shard is our primary goal in this endeavour." He paused then, the shadow of a frown ghosting across his features only briefly. "The sooner the shard is removed from this world, the sooner our warriors can retreat."

As the Lord of Vanaheim, Njord was quick to assent and issue his commands. Frey and Freya were to strike at the base of Rohella, while Njord himself would maintain the plains to the west of them. My father would secure southwestern Caravel to ensure demons did not outflank us. Of most import, my friends and I would lead a company of Einherjar aboard a dozen Asgardian skiffs up the mountain to where the Vanir were excavating the sword shard.

Njord spoke last, his words urging us onwards. "Go forth and strike true. We haven't another moment to waste."

All those who were present parted ways to carry out their tasks. When Lady Freya glided past with her brother, she managed to cast an impish smile in Fandral's direction, to which he responded in kind.

While my friends joined the Einherjar to prepare for our departure, I lingered behind. At such a distance, I caught only slivers of Thor's instruction and Loki's swift opposition with regards to whether or not the Einherjar should remain grouped together or spread out. Although the thought of stepping in to cease the ensuing argument entered my mind, the urge to do so was intercepted by a familiar, albeit dispassionate countenance.

"Father," I greeted, offering a curt nod in place of a curtsey. "I am glad to see you well, in light of the circumstances."

He canted his head, brow wrinkled. "It is I who should be saying that to you. I have been told you faced Surtur and ventured into Niffleheim all in a few days' time."

"I admit, we have faced some rather... dangerous situations—yet not without reason." I lowered my eyes, expecting a reprimand. But it never came.

"I cannot say I am pleased to see you in the midst of this peril," he told me instead. "However, I understand your need to be here. I understand your desire to lend aid where you are most able because you could not sit idly by otherwise." Averting his gaze, he nodded gently. "You have a willful spirit, my daughter. In that respect, you are much like your mother."

A great warmth spread through me as I swallowed past the thickness in my throat. He did not speak of my mother often—if he ever had. Most of what I knew about her had come from Arlessa or Hildegund. The rest sprang from my distant, faded memories of her. That my father could give me another fragment of her in so few words was heartening.

"Lord Bjoran."

We both turned towards the source of the voice, and I smiled upon seeing Faradei standing before us. At his back stood a company of Light Elf archers; beyond them were several more. Without his crown and royal armaments, Faradei looked not like a king. He was just another captain commanding his warriors on the field of battle.

"Eirlys, I am certainly glad to see you and your companions here," he said. "I wish I had a moment to greet you properly, but I fear time will not allow it."

The desire to speak of my encounter with Castien on Niffleheim tugged at the back of my mind. But he was right. Time would not allow it.

"Your Highness." My father granted Faradei a gracious bow. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated. We are evermore in your debt."

Faradei pressed a hand over his heart and returned the gesture. "Our unit shall accompany you, Lord Bjoran," he said. "As we are all equipped as archers, we must remain at the rear."

"Of course. My warriors are prepared to front our forces," my father replied. "I fear time is of the essence. We must depart now." He turned my way, never smiling, but neither was he entirely without warmth. "Take care, Eirlys."

"And you." When I glanced at Faradei, images of Castien hastening towards his death flashed across my sight. I pushed them aside with as much haste as I could muster; my focus needed to be on surviving this day. "Both of you take care."

Faradei hesitated, lips parted, as though he wished to speak further. But my father soon urged action, issuing commands to his warriors. With no time to spare, Faradei graced me with a final bow before moving to address his own archers.

I tarried for several seconds longer, watching as the host of Vanir lined up in formation, the Light Elves doing the same at their rear with equal efficiency. Then, with a deep, shaky breath, I shifted on my heel and returned to my companions.

As far as I could determine, Thor and Loki had worked out some form of compromise, for they were no longer arguing by the time I approached the skiffs. While Thor was giving orders to the Einherjar, Loki sat beside the steering mechanism in the skiff nearest to me. Not having boarded yet, Sif, Volstagg, and Fandral loitered by the prow, their eyes trained on Thor.

I strode past, sharing with them a nod of affirmation before I climbed into the skiff. "I see you did not have to strike Thor in the face to end your dispute," I said to Loki.

"I was sorely tempted." Leaning on the steering mechanism, Loki smirked up at me. "But he came to his senses and acceded to my superior suggestion. We will be better off covering greater ground."

The desire to roll my eyes at his smug expression proved strong, but I managed to summon the restraint.

Standing at the stern of the skiff, I scanned the field around us. A fog was beginning to roll in, gradually obstructing our view. It was by no means as bad as Niffleheim had been, but I feared what it would mean for the coming battle.

Despite the gradually creeping fog, my vantage granted me quite the sight. To witness the gathering of Vanir, Aesir, and Light Elves—all together, facing a common threat—was rather remarkable. There were thousands of them, each willing to die for the Nine Realms. It made the weight of our task all the more heavy.

A hearty cheer snapped me from my reverie, and I glanced about to see the cause of such high spirits advancing towards us: a familiar figure appearing from the thickening fog.

Clad in black, favourite weapon at his side, Hogun slowed to a stop amidst our companions. "I was told you were in need of a guide?"

It had been Fandral who emitted the exclamation of delight. "Are we ever glad to see you!"

Volstagg was quick to rush forth and sweep both Fandral and Hogun into one of his notoriously bone-crushing hugs. "The Warriors Three, together again at last!"

As soon as Volstagg let them go, Thor joined the warriors in their merriment and clasped forearms with Hogun. "My friend, I am beyond grateful that you have joined us once more in our time of greatest need."

In response, Hogun smiled—an uncommon occurrence, but a very welcome one. "I heard that you have been getting into much trouble without me," he said. "I know the ways of the mountain. We shall not be lost to its vast ranges."

Along with the others of our company, Hogun was swift to board the skiff. I greeted him with a kind word, while Loki did little more than incline his head. On either side of our aircraft, Hogun's kin—warriors from villages throughout Indova—were joining the Einherjar who would be accompanying us to the mountains.

It was pleasant to think that, after what felt like a lifetime, our company of seven would embark on an adventure again. Even if it would be our last.

Fandral was halfway between sitting and standing when the skiff took flight with a jolt. Much like earlier in the day, the abrupt movement had Fandral stumbling sideways into Volstagg. As we rose higher, the skiffs on either side doing the same, Fandral shot Loki a searing glare. Loki never glanced in his direction, though the gleam in his eye indicated to me that the act was by no means innocent.

The mountains of Rohella towered in the distance, growing ever larger by the second. Loki guided the skiff higher, into the fog that hung over the wide open fields of Vanaheim. Knowing that we would have to face fire demons when we reached our destination, I considered the cool air a nice respite.

Touching a hand to Loki's shoulder, I climbed to my feet and paced the length of the skiff. Nearer to the bow, Sif sat beside Fandral, Drekisbane balanced on her knees. The moment she noticed my presence, she nudged Fandral aside with her hip to accord me a seat on the opposite side. "We keep having to dive into the fray. It seems endless," she murmured, her regard settling on the approaching horizon. "It truly does feel as though Ragnarök is upon us."

In spite of my quavering hands, I somehow found it in myself to smile and arch a brow. "I remember an admirable young maiden who so longed for risky adventures just years ago."

The remark garnered a smile in return. "Facing death was such an enjoyable diversion in our youth."

As the moments passed, my good humour faded and drifted away, like smoke on the wind. "But you're right... at times, I feel as though there is no end in sight." I glanced at Loki, who brought us nearer to the sword shard, his hands so tight around the steering mechanism that his knuckles turned white. Every few seconds, he would nod at Hogun's directions, adjusting our skiff accordingly.

"It makes me curious. What would it be like to live a life of peace and quietude?" Sif mused. "I am uncertain if such a life would be for me."

"I would, at the least, like to attempt it." Turning to face Sif, I bumped shoulders with her. "Would I enjoy the silence? Or would it drive me mad?"

She chuckled softly. "I suppose there's no harm in trying." The fog started to lift, and we were treated to a clear view of the mountains, looming taller and larger the closer we flew. "First, we must see that Ragnarök is averted."

To our left and right, the other skiffs diverged from our path to circle around the mountain peaks. Through the fog, we could see the protruding end of the sword shard. It was embedded near the peak, where the mountainside was steepest. It roused memories of my youth, when I once saw it from the flower fields. The other children invented stories about a giant who, in a fit of rage, tossed down a lightning bolt that became frozen on the mountaintop. I had preferred to think of it as a giant's weapon, thrown down so that he could grapple with an enemy using only his bare hands. We had not known the truth of it at the time. Our invented stories did not seem so absurd compared to what actually happened.

Our skiff dipped, permitting us a better view of the ground below. There was no sign of Surtur's demons yet, but everyone on board equipped their shields and hefted their weapons just the same. Battle was near. We could all sense it.

From the stern, Loki loosed a heavy breath that even I could hear. "Bringing us near enough to the mountain to disembark may prove a challenge."

Brow lifted, I looked back at him. "Since when did you ever refuse a challenge?"

Loki scoffed. "Never."

He grinned, our skiff ascending the mountain, flying faster than before. The sudden increase in speed and wind pushed most of us back in our seats, and we had to grip the handholds to keep from sliding further. As we scaled the mountain, the temperature made a noticeable drop, our breaths misting ever so slightly before us. We drew near to the rocky mountain face, so near that we were skimming the air mere yards from it.

Thor peered over his shoulder, eyes wide. "Loki!"

"Everything is under control," Loki snapped.

"Loki, no! There is something emerging from the rock face ahead!"

Our skiff swerved, narrowly missing the new cleft in the mountainside. Clinging onto the side of the skiff, I stared towards our rear to see what had risen from the crag. It shrank with every passing second as the distance increased. But I still sighted the beast.

It was larger than the demons we'd faced on Niffleheim. On all fours, it was lupine in form, with a shiny black shell in place of fur. Eyes glowing a fiery orange, it roared in fury as it scrabbled to make chase up the mountainside, albeit with little success.

Observing the creature roused something in the back of my mind: an old, trivial memory from my youth. I recalled Arlessa telling me stories of the warriors who defended the Castle of Caravel in the time of Surtur's rise and fall. The demons had come from Muspelheim, spreading far and wide, bearing armour-like carapace and spouting fire from their jaws. She'd called them 'helhounds.'

"There are more demons ahead!" Volstagg shouted against the fierce gale. "We must stop."

Sif crouched low, shaking her head. "If we do, we'll never reach the shard in time!"

In the end, neither argument mattered. A cluster of demons burst through the mountain just ahead, clawing their way from beneath the rocks. With a keen instinct, Loki reacted by lurching the skiff upwards, sending us high above the escalating number of helhounds. And yet, no amount of speed or height could help us avoid the enemy.

They were leaping right for us.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : The title of this chapter is a reference to the song _Somewhere a Clock is Ticking_ by Snow Patrol.

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	9. The Hounds of Hel

**Author's Note:** Hello dear readers! Sorry for the long wait between chapters (and on a cliffhanger, no less). I've had the most hectic few weeks of school, then I came down with a terrible cold. But now I'm back to it.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, alerted, etc. You guys are the best!

* * *

 **NINE**

* * *

 _the hounds of hel_

* * *

The only thing I caught a glimpse of was the five helhounds soaring through the air before they collided with our skiff. Their weight combined with the unsteady angle at which we'd been flying sent our skiff spiralling out of control. Try as Loki might, there was no righting our aircraft. No amount of skill or cunning would help us now.

As soon as we hit a cliff, the skiff upended, taking every single one of us along with it.

The air left my lungs as I hit the ground and went tumbling down the slopes, the uncovered skin on my arms scraping on the rocks scattered across the mountainside. I cried out and attempted to cast a spell to slow my fall, but I did not have the strength or the focus to summon the magic, not even with the help of the crystal hidden in my bracer.

With a wordless shout, I instead withdrew the dagger from my opposite bracer and plunged it into the rock face. _Thank the Norns for Asgardian steel_. The sudden stop wrenched my arm, nearly yanking it from my shoulder socket. It seemed the pain was worth it, for the blade anchored me to the mountain. When I looked up next, I saw Fandral scrabbling to slow his descent, desperately trying to latch onto anything within reach. Holding out my free hand, I called out his name.

He lurched about, eyes meeting mine, and, with some fortuitous timing, he grasped my hand. Although I was braced firmly against the rock, his abrupt halt still jarred my shoulder. Using me as purchase, Fandral was able to push himself further up on the crag where he drew a knife from his boot and stabbed into the rock just as I had. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, before speaking. "Well, that could have turned out worse."

I lifted a brow. "Worse? How could that have been worse?"

Nodding over his shoulder, he brought my attention to where the skiff had landed amongst a mound of boulders. The vessel was immersed in flames, a great number of helhounds climbing over and around it, searching for passengers. They would find none—we'd all been thrown bodily from its hold.

"Ah, I see," I said. "Much worse."

I glanced back upwards to see that Volstagg and Sif had found their way to a ledge of sorts, both of them seeming dazed. Above them, Loki, Thor and Hogun struggled to rise, the three of them having been thrown the farthest.

With a steadying breath, I huddled close to my dagger and pushed myself higher, the toes of my boots scrabbling against the rock. "Do you think we can make it to Sif and Volstagg?" I asked.

Fandral cast a look in the direction of the helhounds who would surely notice us soon. "I don't believe we have much choice."

I gave Fandral a quick scan to see that he was unharmed save for the cut on his forehead. "You are injured."

"I'll live." He grinned. "At the least, it won't be a gash on my brow that kills me."

Laying a hand on his brow, I ventured a healing spell. My head pounded and ached in response, the spell draining me more than I'd anticipated. All the same, the spell stitched together some of the wound and scabbed over the rest of it.

Unable to voice much of anything else, I turned back to seek Sif and Volstagg. They were both gesturing us towards them now, frantic—perhaps in fear of the helhounds below. As large and frightening as the helhounds were, they did not appear to be particularly clever. They were sniffing around the skiff now, trying to catch our scent. _Perhaps they cannot see us,_ I mused. _Otherwise they could just look up and find us huddled against the mountainside_.

I dragged myself upwards, finding a small amount of purchase before dislodging my dagger from the rock and stabbing it into the mountainside another foot to the left. Together, Fandral and I scaled the rock face, foot by foot, my arms burning with every movement. Once or twice, I slipped a few inches, only to stab my dagger into the rock once more.

The moment I reached the ledge, Sif knelt to take my free hand and hefted me up. Crouched beside her, I paused only to wrest my dagger free. She drew me further along the ledge so that Volstagg could extend a hand to Fandral. As he did so, I chanced a look at the helhounds meandering about the wreckage of the skiff. It seemed they found our trail at last, for they were beginning to clamber up the rocks, advancing towards us.

Swallowing thickly, I peered upwards to see Loki and Hogun skidding a short ways down the mountain, heading in our direction. Once we were within yards of them, Loki darted forwards to take my hand.

The moment we stood side by side, he cast a look towards the uneven terrain above us. "We must defend the ridge." He motioned further overhead, to where the mountain peaked in a ridge. Further along, to the right, the ridge sloped higher into the mountain summit—the site into which the sword shard had been driven. "Thor has proceeded to the shard without us. Time is not on our side."

The helhounds were fast approaching, scrambling but unwavering in their resolve. Their claws dug deep into the rock, dragging them nearer, easing their passage up the mountain. They paused every so often to sniff the air, seeking us out. Not another word was needed to urge us onwards.

We continued our climb, the craggy protrusions providing handholds. The mountainside began to level out the higher we went, expediting our ascent. Nearer to the summit, the ridge proved too tall for me to climb by my lonesome. Gripping my waist, Loki helped me reach the higher ground, which I mounted in mere seconds. He followed shortly after, accepting my assistance when I offered it. As we both stood atop the ridge, he disregarded the rest of our company, striding in the direction of the peak.

Shooting him an exasperated look, I stooped to proffer my hand to Hogun. After he scaled the ridge, we helped everyone else climb the rock, one by one, until our companions stood among us.

At such great heights, the winds rose, battering us from all sides. With unsteady footing, we sidled up the ridge, which was no more than two yards in width. The side opposite that which we'd climbed dipped into the basin bordered by other peaks in the Rohella Mountain Range. While it proved a challenge to stride upon, I considered it a blessing that it was not any steeper.

Volstagg fought to be heard above the screeching gale. "Do you see Thor?"

Loki came to a halt right where the ridge curved upwards to the summit. The fog had grown even thicker here, so much so that it almost felt as though we were standing just beneath the clouds. Its opacity made it near impossible to see the sword shard from our vantage. Before any of us could venture a response to Volstagg's question, a flicker of lightning gleamed through the smog. Another flashed soon after, and the sound of thunder roared throughout the mountains.

In response, the helhounds clambering in our wake howled to the skies. A chill ran through me at the thought that they could be upon us at any moment.

And yet, it soon became clear that the pack of fiery hounds beneath our ridge was the least of our concerns.

Without warning, the ground around our feet rumbled, shifting, portions of rock around us splitting open and gaping wide. My nostrils burned with the smell of sulphur and ash as the ground heated and glowed red. Judging from the way the dirt churned and twisted, fire roiling beneath, I realized what was happening: more demons were on their way. And we scarcely had time to react.

I unsheathed my sword and braced my shield at angle in front of me with the hope that I could deflect a pouncing enemy off the mountain ridge and into the basin. Inching sideways, I had a mind to move towards Loki, who stood apart from the rest of us on the ridge. But before I could reach him, the rocky ridge between us burst open, sand and pebbles spraying about when a creature attempted to rise from the earth.

I stumbled back, heart wedged in my throat. After several long seconds, the dust cleared, and I found myself looking upon a helhound stuck in the ground. Absolute bewilderment flooded my senses as it thrashed about and whined like a dog. Even so, I regained my wits with the shake of my head and stabbed downwards, my sword slicing through carapace and bone.

The helhound lay dead half-within the rock and half-without. It might have been the only fortunate occurrence transpiring in that very moment. Behind me, a dozen helhounds had erupted from the stone, barking and growling and snapping their jaws at anyone that stood near. Ahead, Loki was contending with three helhounds on his own.

Jaw clenched, I launched myself over the dead helhound and rolled upon my landing. Holding back a cry, I ducked underneath a blast of fire that came spurting from the maw of a hound. When I rose up, I caught sight of Loki dodging and weaving between hounds, barely a step ahead. Two of them had their attention on him now, while I faced only one.

Sword leading, I charged at the hound just as the hound charged at me. The moment we met, the demon's wide muzzle clashed with my blade. I pierced through the roof of its mouth, sinking Silvertongue into its skull, the unbearable heat near burning the unprotected parts of my hands. From where I stood, I could see the spark in the back of its throat flicker and die—an indication that the creature itself had also perished. Wrenching my sword back, I let the demon collapse at my feet.

Without a moment's pause, I turned to find Loki facing down one remaining helhound wielding nothing more than a dagger. The demons growled, afraid to approach. _Its not spewing flames as it did before_ , I noted. _Perhaps their fiery breath requires a moment of recovery_. Bearing this conclusion in mind, I darted forwards, aiming for the flank.

My attempt at being surreptitious left much to be desired, for the helhound whirled on me upon my approach, baring its teeth in a nasty snarl. Before it could complete its first step forward, Loki leapt forth and brought his dagger down upon the helhound's head.

Unharried for but a moment, we lingered on the ridge and peered around us, the fog lifting, granting us a greater view of our surroundings. Overhead, near the summit, we could discern Thor at last. His red cape fluttered in the currents of air, acting as a flag for all to see. A number of unmoving figures lay prone around him—helhounds, I assumed. Despite the sheer bulk of them, they were unable to keep him from hammering the ground holding the sword shard, loosening the rock and compact dirt that had built up over the millennia. My heart twisted at the Vanir warriors' notable absence; there should have been dozens of them working on the excavation of the shard. I could only surmise they too had fallen.

Assured that Thor would see the task through, I spun on my heel to seek the rest of our companions. More helhounds were emerging from the ground, separating us from Sif and the Warriors Three. With Loki at my side, nodding in silent assent, I did not hesitate to join the fray once more.

The subsequent helhounds did not prove much of a challenge. We swept through them, striking swiftly. I swiped aside demons, cut them down, drove my sword through their skulls. Loki was never far behind, killing helhounds in equal measure, if not more, given his speed with a dagger.

I reached Sif first and surveyed her in a single sweep of my gaze to see she was unharmed—scorch marks on the side of her breastplate notwithstanding. We were granted a brief respite, the battlefield growing quieter. The Warriors Three dispatched the remaining helhounds, fighting together with a fluidity that most others struggled to achieve.

Fandral slew the last hound before looking about, frowning. "Is that all?"

"Don't be ludicrous," Loki retorted, sweeping the area. "Nothing can ever be so easy."

A mighty _bang_ and a _CRACK_ resounded, the echo of it bouncing off the Rohella Mountains. We all looked upwards to see the sword shard falling free from the summit, tumbling a short ways down the mountainside. It skidded to a halt near our altitude, large chunks of rock trailing behind. In a heartbeat, the bright light of the Bifrost descended from above, dragging the shard up and away from Vanaheim once and for all.

"Thank the Norns," I breathed. "Now we can—"

From one of the open fissures on the ridge, a helhound surged free.

It targeted me, claws and teeth alike reaching out at once. Though I was able to react in time, my shield bearing the brunt of the attack, the lack of finesse had me stumbling back. With its claws wrapped around my shield, the helhound snapped at me, its jaws inches away from gnawing my face by the time Loki reached me. Twirling his dagger in hand, he stabbed the creature rapidly in the back, impaling its skull more times than necessary, ceasing its pitiful cries with a slash across the throat.

Gritting his teeth, Loki tossed the hound's corpse aside, his hands blistered from the heat. He looked as though he were about to speak, but the rise of a dozen more helhounds diverted our attention. I had to roll away from him to avoid a stream of fire coursing from an aperture dug earlier by a now deceased demon. As I rose on one knee, I swung at another helhound, sending it in Sif's direction. She made quick work of it, thrusting downwards with Drekisbane.

The hairs on my arm stood on end moments before Thor plummeted from the sky, all but crashing into the ground with a surge of lightning. An electric charge tore through the air, heating the very atmosphere, the sheer power blasting a handful of helhounds off the face of the mountain. In the span of a breath, Sif and the Warriors Three darted forwards and slaughtered the last of the helhounds.

Then we all fell still, heeding the silence, our eyes wide and searching. After several lengthy seconds, a curious sense of relief washed over me when it seemed the rush of helhounds had stopped. Now that the sword shard was gone, perhaps the assault on Vanaheim was beginning to draw to a close. It crossed my mind that we could call upon Heimdall to return us to Asgard, but there were those who continued to fight at the foot of the mountain. _We have to help them_.

That thought soon vanished.

We did not take notice of its approach. Not until it was too late.

The creature erupted from the ground, the force of which sent us all flying backwards. I landed hard on my back, my spine colliding with a sharp rock, the _crack_ of it against my armour startling. Dust and stone exploded into the air, filling my lungs, choking me. As soon as most of it settled, I caught a glimpse of what had ruptured the ground.

It was a helhound, to be sure, but it was at least tenfold the size of every other helhound we'd encountered thus far. Black carapace shone in the muted light that broke through the fog, the faint glow of heat shining between the plates. The hound bared its teeth as it rose up, snarling, tail lashing back and forth. In the split second that I made these observations, it centred on its prey—the one who had fallen nearest to it, right in its line of sight: Volstagg.

Everyone one of us attempted to rise and stave off the monster, but none proved swift enough.

From his prone position, Volstagg made a wide swing with his axe. The massive hound was too quick, eluding each attack before opening its gaping maw, gleaming teeth as sharp as spearheads. It forewent using its fiery stream, instead opting for a far bloodier alternative. The monster clamped down on Volstagg's left leg, pulling and tearing. If I'd been given the opportunity to dwell upon it right then, I would've emptied the contents of my stomach at the awful sound of flesh being rent open.

And the blood.

There was so much blood.

He cried out and aimed to bash the beast back to no avail. Sif saw more success, reaching Volstagg and the beast first, jabbing upwards and sinking her blade into its neck. Even then, her attack seemed little more than a nuisance to the beast as it drew back and snapped its teeth at her. She moved with equal speed, sidestepping out of its path. By then, the rest of us had sprung into action.

Fandral, the next to encroach upon the beast, struck at its hindquarters. When it turned, distracted, Hogun slammed his spiked mace into the opposite flank. Despite their great might and keen weapons, they did not appear to be exacting much damage upon the fiend.

To my right, Loki hummed, frowning. "Perhaps I was remiss not to bring a spear."

I quirked a brow at him, though any thought of replying in jest was tenuous. "A distraction may be all we need."

Canting his head, he withdrew a knife and held it slack between his fingers. "That, I can do."

With a deep breath, I hefted my sword high and headed to the left. Thor took notice of my movement and followed in my wake. The beast was facing away from us now, swiping a claw at Sif while striving to capture Fandral in its wide jaws. Volstagg remained powerless at its feet, looking about for his axe which had been knocked yards from his reach.

Thor and I kept to the left; at the same time, Loki sidled to the creature's right. After I signalled him with a nod, Loki let fly two daggers, striking the beast in the leg. It roared, whirling about to face him as fast as its injured limb would allow. It hunkered down on its front legs, roiling flames gathering in its maw.

"Strike where I strike," Thor said, and I had barely enough time to comprehend his words before he leapt forth.

Lightning streaming from the sky, Mjolnir crackled and shimmered when Thor brought it down upon the beast. Electricity surged, rapid and hot and blinding, sending our enemy collapsing onto its side. The spot that Thor struck still burned, the carapace turning orange and malleable from the extreme heat.

A weak spot.

The thought persisted in my mind as I did what Thor bade me. I aimed true, driving Silvertongue into the beast's side, the weakened shell allowing my sword to cut deeper.

An earsplitting shriek sounded from the creature, its pitch so high and terrifying that I was forced to cover my ears with my hands lest I risk the loss of my hearing. That moment of disturbance was all the beast needed. It sought to bite my arm, and I reacted by diving to the left, evading the red-stained teeth by a mere hairsbreadth. In my frantic haste, I did not perceive the long, whip-like tail lashing out at me.

It arced upwards, hitting my chest, the sharp end of the tail leaving a long scratch along my cheek. I barely had a chance to register the pain when I tumbled across the rocky ground, breath caught in my chest. I rolled several times, scrambling to grab onto something—anything—before I could plummet down the mountainside. My nails scraped against stone, the feel of it agonizing, until my hand met with a protruding rock. I gripped it tight and jerked to a stop just at the edge of the ridge, my feet dangling over the brink.

In an instant, Loki knelt before me, taking my hand. "At times, I wonder how you've survived so long with reflexes like that."

In spite of the circumstances, I shot him a glare and scrambled back onto the ridge.

My hand clutched within Loki's still, I looked about to witness Sif and Thor taking on the beast together.

With the twirl of Drekisbane, Sif skewered the beast's hind leg—the previously uninjured one. This left the creature hindered and slow to turn. It let loose a surge of flame at Sif, which she avoided easily given its now sluggish pace. Seizing the opportune moment, Thor launched himself forward and bashed its hindquarters with Mjolnir, the heavy mystical stone enough to break the carapace.

At last, the beast fell back, its hind legs giving way. Mouth wide, it struggled to face Thor, readying another flame. Proving quicker than the demon, Thor summoned a streak of lightning and discharged it straight into the beast's open maw. Smoke began spilling from the creature—smoke not born of its ability to spew fire at will.

It slumped to one side, dead, its face and mouth charred and cracked and rather gruesome to observe. When it fell, it landed no more than a yard from where Volstagg lay, motionless but grimacing from the pain. _A good sign_ —a terrible thought to think, but that he still felt pain indicated that his mental faculties had not yet begun to decline.

Bereft of the caution I should have been exercising, I hurried past the beast, crossing a mere foot in front of its muzzle. Eyes locking onto the wound marring Volstagg's leg, I froze, my blood turning to ice. If at all possible, it was far worse than I was expecting.

He squinted up at me, fingers clenching and unclenching beside him. "It's quite dreadful, is it not?"

I was uncertain if he was asking or confirming. Either way, I schooled my features and knelt to scrutinize his injury more closely. The flesh above his knee was torn and bloodied; an artery might have been pierced, though the blood did not appear to be flowing as quickly as it would have had that been the case. Even so, I could see the bone protruding through, the sight of which had me averting my gaze.

I'd beheld a variety of gruesome afflictions over the many years, some not unlike that which Volstagg suffered. And yet, somehow, this seemed far more frightful. Perhaps it was because Volstagg was a friend—family, even. I knew there would've been a chance to save his leg if he was tended to by half a dozen healers, fed numerous potions, and allowed rest minutes ago. But we would not have access to any of those things in time. There was no possibility of such recovery for him. The least we could do was return him home.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted to the skies, searching for any sign of the gatekeeper's response. "You must return Volstagg to Asgard. He has been gravely injured."

No response was given.

"I suspect Heimdall is rather preoccupied at the moment," Loki said. We all followed his gaze to peer across the plains of Caravel. The light of the Bifrost was descending from above, extracting people from Vanaheim—refugees and wounded warriors. "And he would not risk retrieving us with the enemy still so near."

Before anyone could question his meaning, he turned just as another helhound came bounding from a previously made aperture. Wielding the long dagger in his hand with the precision I knew him for, he stabbed the demon in the throat and let it fall. The next few moments were a cacophony of barks and yelps as a dozen more helhounds leapt from the holes in the ridge. While my companions contended with the enemy, I remained at Volstagg's side and puzzled over the best course of action.

Even with full control over my magic, I would not have been able to provide Volstagg the healing he needed. Be that as it may, I might have been able to stop the bleeding. With Loki's magic alongside my own, it was still feasible.

"Loki, I need your help." As soon as I lifted my head to seek him out, he crouched next to me, bloody dagger in hand. "Might I borrow your magic?"

He said nothing, instead extending his empty hand. I grasped it with my left, frowning when I could not feel his magic as strongly as I'd hoped. _It will have to do_. With a deep inhale, I let my opposite hand hover over Volstagg's wound, reluctant to cause him any further pain. "It is all right," Volstagg said, voice wavering. His face had grown ashen, weary. He was losing too much blood. He was dying. _But I promised to bring him home_. "Do what you must."

I closed my eyes and lay my palm on the gaping wound. He groaned in agony, writhing only a little; he had considerable control over his pain-filled reaction otherwise. Using everything I had at my disposal, I cast what healing magic I could. I sensed some minuscule amounts of tissue repairing. I could feel the flow of his blood slowing, though little more than that; the deep red continued to trickle through my fingers.

When I let go, my chest constricted, vision tunnelling—blackening at an alarming rate.

"Eirlys!"

I blinked to find Loki looking at me, my face between his hands. "Can you hear me?" At my nod, he seemed to relax a touch, as subtle as it may have been. He looked paler than before, and I wondered how much magic I'd drawn from him; it hardly felt like any. "You've done all you can. We need to leave now."

I shook my head, a strange sense of hysteria burgeoning within. "No, no—he can't walk like this. I can do more." With my quivering hand seizing Loki's once more, I pressed my opposite hand to the wound and attempted a healing spell again. This time, my efforts were for naught.

"You must go." Upon raising my head, I met Volstagg's gaze. He graced me with a watery smile. "You're right. I cannot walk, and I will be little more than a burden to you. Moreover, you cannot carry me; it would require all of you, and that would leave no one to defend against the demons."

In my moment of hesitation, Loki slipped from my side to slay a helhound that had been encroaching from behind. Against my better judgement, I remained unmoving and uncertain—there had to be something we could do.

Fandral soon crouched beside his friend, panting and dishevelled, shoulders drooping. "You're not seriously suggesting that we leave you behind?" he said.

"I would not have you risk your lives in a foolhardy attempt to save mine," Volstagg replied. He held his hand out, towards his axe. It lay some yards away, a number of helhounds blocking his reach. "I simply ask that you allow me to continue fighting."

My throat grew thick at his request, but I stood to fulfill it nevertheless. Hastening towards the massive fallen beast, I extricated Silvertongue, gripping the hilt and leveraging myself against the carapace with a boot. Sword in hand, I spun on my heel to slay one helhound after the other. I dropped to a knee when one hound made a leap at my head, which prompted Loki to hurl another throwing dagger.

Reaching Volstagg's axe, I sheathed my sword and hefted the weapon with both hands before bracing my shield before me. I stormed my way back to him, knocking aside a demon that Sif made quick work of. When I returned, both Hogun and Fandral hovered by Volstagg's side.

"Come along, my friend," Fandral said, crouching to grab Volstagg's arm. "You still have one good leg. You can lean on your axe as we go."

"I do not think that will possible." We both looked towards Hogun, his expression more grim than I had ever seen. "His injury is far too grave, Fandral."

Appalled, Fandral shook his head. "No, you can't say that."

Volstagg fought to sit upright, though he could go no further. "We haven't the time," he said, taking his axe from my hands. "Let me go. The hounds will overwhelm us soon enough."

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Even as Thor, Sif and Loki battled back the helhounds, the increasing numbers would soon be too great for them to contend with. But a sudden surge of panic pushed me to argue otherwise. "We can't—not like this," I insisted. "If I can just conjure enough magic, I can repair—"

Before I could finish speaking, I was being dragged away by a firm hand. Snapping my head around, I frowned at Loki. He was leading me along the ridge, further from Volstagg. "We can't stay here," he shouted, unable to glance back at me—the mountain trail was too narrow and rocky to divert one's gaze from. "There are too many of them."

"No, wait! I can still try," I exclaimed, gripping his hand with my free one. "I'm not willing to give up yet."

He stopped and turned to face me, grasping my upper arms. "There is nothing more that can be done for him."

I blinked, wanting to dispute him more than anything. But I couldn't. It wouldn't have amounted to anything. I could not heal Volstagg, and we could not convey him.

I chanced a glance behind to see the helhounds bursting from the ground in an endless stream. In the time it would take to kill them all, Volstagg might already be dead, and our efforts would be wasted. Worse than that, even more were rising from the slopes ahead. At what point would we become overwhelmed by the demons?

Withdrawing our weapons, Loki and I stood ready, backs to each other. In a flash, Thor dropped from the sky, crashing into the helhounds that surfaced before me. They spilled over the ridge and went toppling over the mountainside. For one silent moment, Thor stilled, his breath heavy and laboured.

I tried to glance around him, but the fog and the string of dead hounds obstructed my view. "What of Volstagg?"

"He yet lives." Posture stooped, he ran a filthy hand over his face. "We have no choice but to continue without him. The Einherjar may have seen our crash. If we are fortunate, perhaps they will be waiting for us with their skiffs."

"I think that may be the only sensible notion you've had all day," Loki quipped.

With the helhounds pouring from the rock face, Thor was robbed of any opportunity to retort. We were forced to press onwards, fending off all those who dared near—a feat made easier given our higher ground. As we went, I made sure to look behind to see Sif and the Warriors Three following. _Bereft of Volstagg_ , I reminded myself. Fandral and Hogun kept glancing over their shoulders, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Volstagg. But the only thing that could be seen was the wave of helhounds that persisted in following us.

Thor led the way, mounting a ridge where we climbed over a peak. Upon beginning our descent, we could see the Einherjar waiting alongside three skiffs halfway down the mountain. They were defending the aircrafts as best they could from the onslaught of helhounds.

After a moment, Thor stopped and moved from our path. "Go on without me." Without bothering to explain his intent, he took to the skies, lightning gathering upon Mjolnir. I did not look back, but I heard him ramming into the helhounds in our wake, thunder and electricity crackling in the air.

The rest of our company stormed down the mountainside, Loki at the fore. He dispatched the enemy with a haste I could never hope to possess, stabbing downwards and slicing throats when he could, the cries of hounds resounding through the mountain range. Although I joined him, striking at our foes with sharp, precise jabs, my thoughts remained with Volstagg. I refused to accept that we'd left him behind. Perhaps a part of me held onto a shred of hope that he could be saved, that we would find a way to go back for him. Or perhaps I was simply desperate to keep a promise I made the night before.

After we reached the Einherjar, we banded together with them, slaying helhound upon helhound. Their numbers counted in the dozens, but so did the Einherjar. It was not long before we were blessed with a lull in battle, even if there was no knowing how long it would last.

"Your Highness!" The commander of the Einherjar, dressed in deep bronze chased with red, stepped forth and bowed to Thor the very moment he dropped from the sky to join us. "We have just received word from our allies. The enemy is attempting to hinder the retreat—it seems Dark Elves have joined the battle. Their approach from the southwest went unnoticed until it was too late."

A darkness shrouded our company. I shared a look with Loki only to see the clench of his jaw, the cold gleam in his eyes. He'd vowed to end Malekith, and now his opportunity to do so was near.

Hands clenching, Thor gave the commander a brisk nod. "Then we shall accompany you."

With another bow, the throng of Einherjar boarded two of the three skiffs and began their quest to lend aid to our allies—to my people. Nevertheless, as we climbed aboard the skiff they'd left for us, my resolve wavered. That the Dark Elves were so close and our allies needed assistance burned in my mind. I knew what we should be doing. But my heart refused to comply.

Striding to the rear of the skiff, I grabbed the steering mechanism before Loki could. He furrowed his brow at me, eyes flashing, but I preempted him. "We need to go back for Volstagg," I said.

Expression tightening, he cast a look up the mountain. Helhounds were crawling about the rock face now, most of them advancing towards us. We were their primary target—perhaps they no longer saw Volstagg as a threat and left him be. "Our time would be better served leaving this place. I would slay Malekith once and for all," he told me. "There is little chance Volstagg still lives."

"But there is still a chance."

"You would have me forfeit the opportunity to put Malekith to death?" Loki frowned and shook his head. "You can't save everyone, Eirlys."

"We can save him," I stressed. "Malekith will still be there."

"And what of all the people Malekith might kill?" His brow lifted when I hesitated. "You would leave them to his mercy?"

"Don't say that!" I reached out to clasp his arm and levelled my gaze with his. "I'm not going to tell Hildegund that we left her husband behind to die."

His eyes narrowed. "You let sentiment hold sway over your decisions."

A short breath escaped my lips. "How could I not?" I looked round at the others aboard our skiff. Although no one spoke, they were watching us with wide eyes full of hope and doubt. They must've have known—even I knew—that the chances of Volstagg living through the day were slim. But we had to try. I would not have found peace with the fact that we abandoned him atop the Rohella Mountains, never to be seen again.

"Loki, we can go back for Volstagg and still meet Malekith on the battlefield." It was Thor who stepped forward at last, his jaw set. "Eirlys is right. We cannot relinquish hope."

For a moment, Loki uttered nothing, and I wondered if the rest of our companions would protest should he refuse. Yet the need for objection never arose, for he took hold of the steering mechanism and bestowed upon me a nod. "Then let me steer," he said. "We need to be quick about this."

Once I backed away, our skiff lifted from the uneven ground, soaring high above the mountainside and far from the reach of the helhounds that scattered across the rock face. Loki, it seemed, had learned his lesson from the fate of our previous skiff, as we maintained a higher altitude. He turned our transport to face the bluff where we'd left Volstagg. Never wasting another second, we started in the direction we'd come, climbing higher and faster.

All I could do now was hope and pray that we would find Volstagg alive.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Please take a moment to leave a review, even if you only have a few seconds. It's always a treat hearing from you guys!


	10. The Setting Sun

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Boy, it's practically become a ghost town around here (my fault, really). But, never fear dear readers, I am dedicated to finishing this story, even if it means there is only one person still reading.

Just to let you know, I have finished writing the story, and I'm now just putting the finishing touches on the remaining chapters. Also, the school semester is over, so I'll be putting out the chapters far faster this month.

And now, onwards!

* * *

 **TEN**

* * *

 _the setting sun_

* * *

Through the thinning fog, we could see the helhounds far below. Dozens upon dozens of them were heading down the slopes, their howls echoing throughout the mountains. My chest tightened at the sight. That the mountains were so overwhelmed by demons made me think that Volstagg might already be dead. On the other hand, he could've been feigning death, or perhaps the demons disregarded him now that he no longer posed a threat. Nevertheless, the hounds were barrelling towards the Vanir embroiled in conflict at the foot of the mountain, and I began to wonder if we'd made a mistake coming back for Volstagg.

Once we reached the top of the ridge, our skiff came to a stop, hovering several feet from the ground. Fandral and Hogun were the first to leap off the side, landing amidst a gruesome scene. Though the number of helhounds had increased since our departure, they were all slain, black blood dribbling across the stone. I joined Fandral and Hogun, and together we hurried past our fallen enemies to find Volstagg right where we left him. He hadn't moved an inch, regardless of the greater number of dead demons surrounding him.

Fandral knelt beside his friend. "By the Norns..."

I stopped short just beside him and felt the blood drain from my face. If there had been any chance to save Volstagg's leg earlier, it no longer existed now. Hand clasped over my mouth, I dropped to my knees and touched two fingers to Volstagg's neck. By some fortune, he yet lived, though his pulse was weak.

Across from me, Fandral stood and scampered about, searching amongst the dead helhounds. "I can't seem to find his leg," he said, as if hoping the healers could've reattached it. I knew it would not have been possible, but I did not have the heart to state it aloud. "His axe—I found his axe." He hefted Volstagg's axe from a dead demon several yards away, dislodging the weapon from its skull.

With a trembling breath, I raised my head and glanced between Thor and Loki. "He's still alive, but just barely," I told them. "It's remarkable he's survived this long. We must return him to Asgard now—he doesn't have much time left."

Thor approached, letting Mjolnir fall to the ground. "It may require all of our combined strength to carry him to the skiff."

Under different circumstances, I imagined Fandral would've made some comment about Volstagg's considerable size and weight. But today was not a day for jests. Each of us put aside our weapons and moved to convey Volstagg. I gripped him by the arm and shoulder; beside me, Thor grasped under his arms. Volstagg did not make a sound as we lifted him—a worrisome sign that his life was slipping away. Aside from the wave of nausea sweeping over me, carrying Volstagg back to the skiff was not as physically trying as suspected.

Fandral was the last to board the skiff, having gone back for Volstagg's axe. As soon as we were settled, Loki took to the steering mechanism and propelled our skiff to the skies. I remained near Volstagg, staring down at him, motionless. My magic would not accomplish much now, not even with Loki's assistance. That it scarcely healed much earlier further roused the burgeoning sickness in me.

Little was said as we glided down the mountain and over the wildflower fields. A swarm of helhounds was storming across the terrain, scattered and too few in number to warrant the need to stop them. We sped along the lands, out of range of any attacks, drawing nearer to the Bifrost site that flickered every so often, transporting evacuees to Asgard.

When our skiff dove low, my stomach swooped just the same. Gripping onto the side of the skiff, I drew up on my knees and watched as we approached the Bifrost site. Scores of Vanir were gathered around, awaiting their turn to escape Vanaheim. Upon seeing their numbers, the gravity of the situation struck me, a chill sweeping through my body. Surtur's forces were not here for the sword shard alone. They sought to strike a blow to Vanaheim—to my people, an ally to the Asgardians in this war.

The skiff dipped at last to the ground. Before we even came to a halt, Thor surged forth from the vessel. "We need assistance! Volstagg has been wounded very badly."

Four healers dashed forward, bearing a stretcher between them. There was some struggle to move Volstagg at first, but the difficulty did not deter us. Alongside the healers, we gathered around the stretcher to transport Volstagg to the Bifrost site. The throng ahead parted at Thor's bellow: "Make way! Make way for the wounded!"

Upon reaching the rune, we laid him upon the ground and backed away. To us, the healers swore to see him live through the day. Then, in the next instant, they and Volstagg were summoned to Asgard in a beam of light. The crowd of Vanir shifted and swelled, forcing us to move off to the side.

Silent, our group of six stood together, all among us bloodied and ashen. It was not every day that we saw one of our own so irreversibly damaged.

"What must we do now?" Hogun asked. His voice was steady, though his frown was deeper than I'd ever seen.

Thor exchanged a look with Loki. After several long seconds, he nodded to Hogun and Fandral. "The both of you should stay here, protect the Bifrost site. We must ensure as many people are evacuated as possible."

"I, for one, intend to end Malekith," Loki said.

Sif inclined her head. "The Einherjar said the Dark Elves were approaching from the southwest."

"Then that is where we shall begin," Thor agreed.

As per Thor's suggestion, Fandral and Hogun remained behind while the rest of us returned to the skiff. Even as I sat at the ready, weapon in hand, the notion of entering battle again weighed heavily on my heart. What further trials would we face this day? Would I have to see more of my friends suffer from grievous harm? Or worse...

We flew across Caravel, high above the burning plains. The blood and broken bodies of demons and Vanir alike blanketed the scorched earth, all long since dead. Blinking back the tears that threatened to obscure my vision, I averted my gaze. So many counted among the dead, and so many more would die still.

"Look." At the bow of the skiff, Sif leaned over the edge to point towards a distinct trail of bodies. "They could not have been slain long ago."

Following her line of sight, I saw that the dead were not Vanir, but Einherjar. Of greater note, I came to realize that they were the Einherjar who'd supplied us our skiff before we went back for Volstagg. Their skiff was strewn about in pieces, the shattered remains smouldering.

With a painful swallow, I lowered my eyes. "Could Malekith have done this?"

"Given the ease with which they were killed, I'd say it's entirely possible," Loki replied.

He took the skiff lower to gain a better look of the landscape before us.

"Do you see that?" Thor sprang to his feet, pointing to the southwest. "There is a battle ahead."

I squinted in the direction he indicated. Amongst the trees, Lord Frey and Lady Freya darted through the shade. They were not difficult figures to spot, seeing as both siblings stood taller than most, their blond hair stark against the dark browns and greens of the forest around them. My regard shifted to the beings closing in on them. There were no demons here. Only Dark Elves.

Sif climbed to her feet and unfurled Drekisbane with a fluid whirl. "It's a wonder there are any Dark Elves remaining. Malekith could not have had such numbers in stasis on his ship."

"Perhaps he did." I rose to join her at the edge of the skiff. "Unless... unless his forces were bolstered by those he freed from Asgard's dungeons."

She turned to face me with a flinty stare. "It makes me wonder if we should not have executed them long ago."

In the past, I might have argued against such harsh measures. But now, given all that had happened, it was difficult to deny that executing them decades ago seemed the wiser choice.

"Then we best not leave the task unfinished," Loki remarked, bringing the skiff ever nearer to the ground.

The very moment our vessel came to a rest on the singed plains, we disembarked and headed straight into the forest, weapons leading. Only eight Vanir warriors accompanied Frey and Freya now. Together, they faced a dozen Dark Elves, each bearing spears and swords and strength enough to contend with all ten Vanir in combat.

As we wove between the trees, I had to assume these Dark Elves did not carry the implosive devices they'd employed on Asgard and Svartalfheim. If they did, they would not have been confronting the Vanir face to face. Nor would they have felt the need to send several more to outflank them—a half-dozen Dark Elves encroached upon the Vanir from behind, keeping to the shadows, their presence going undetected.

Our party was yards away by the time the Vanir felled most of the enemy before them, but they still had not taken notice of the enemy at their rear. Somehow, I was the first to reach the Vanir. "Lady Freya! Get down!" Although she wasted several precious seconds turning to seek the source of my words, she nevertheless heeded my warning and dropped to a crouch, hands covering the nape of her neck.

I rushed at the nearest Dark Elf, who spun about, spear swinging. My instincts proved true, for I raised my shield to block the attack just in time. In the seconds it required me to heft my sword to strike, the Dark Elf was already jabbing at my right side. I staggered backwards, and the Dark Elf followed. To my fortune, my adversary seemed to be entirely focussed on me.

From behind, Sif ran him through, driving Drekisbane deep into his chest, the sharp end protruding from his sternum. While she withdrew her bloodstained blade, I lifted my head to locate the rest of the Dark Elves. The only thing I perceived was their retreating backs. For but a moment, I entertained the idea that they were running at the very sight of us. But it was more likely that they were retreating to alert their remaining kin of our coming.

When they vanished into the trees, out of our sight, the Lady Freya turned to me, her smile more sly than the situation warranted. "My my, it's rather exciting to see the progression of your prowess, Lady Eirlys." Through her cheer, she still seemed shaken. For all her power and charm, even she struggled to weather this conflict. I could not blame her, for I could hardly endure myself. It made my blood run cold, the death and destruction—the desolation of our people and our homeland.

"You have our sincerest gratitude," Lord Frey said with the bow of his head. "We had a mind to lend Lord Bjoran assistance when we were beset by the Dark Elves. I suspect he is in need of it—mayhap even more so now."

My eyes widened a touch. "Where is my father now?"

"On the opposite side of these woods, last we were informed." Lord Frey gestured to the southwest, the direction in which my father and Faradei had travelled. "They should still be in the wildbloom fields. We called for a retreat, but no response was given."

Loki strode forward and kicked over the nearest dead Dark Elf, swiping the spear from the clutches of his lifeless hands. "Then we can presume they've encountered something far more treacherous."

Frey gave a nod. "That is our fear."

As if to confirm our suspicions, a tremble rippled through the ground. Within seconds, a deep reverberation filled the air. Every one of us looked upwards just as a ship, dark and towering, materialized on high, right above what I knew to be the wildbloom fields. _Malekith_. He was here. Malekith was here, and his ship was bearing down on the forces led by Faradei and my father.

If either Lord Frey or Lady Freya had anything to say after that, I was not present to hear it.

Without a word, I went tearing through the forest—the Elvenwood, as it was often called to honour the Light Elves who fought at our side in the Aesir-Vanir war. Many died in these woods, striving against the might of the Aesir. And yet, here we were, over a millennium later, banding together to fight a far greater evil.

Just then, what I thought to be an explosion, red and roaring, rose up, visible beyond the trees ahead. I stumbled to a halt, a pair of hands gripping my arms from behind to keep me steady— _Loki_ , I thought absently. Gasping, I could not remove my eyes from the second burst of energy that could only have come from the Aether. "Oh Norns." I wanted to keep running, to dash through the remainder of the woods to... to do what? I could not be certain. Fear gripped my heart and quashed my wits. I thought of Faradei, my father, those who accompanied them, and little else.

But Loki was there to hold me back, his long fingers tightening around my upper arms. "Eirlys, stop. We cannot face Malekith head on."

"They need our help," I said, breathless. "We can't leave them. You're the one who wanted to kill Malekith."

He spun me about and laid his hands on my shoulders, levelling his gaze with mine. "I know, but you need to stop and consider what you're doing."

I stared at him, taking one deep breath. And then another. "What... what do you propose we do?"

"Allow Thor to go first," Loki said, glancing behind.

Thor was there, stern gaze focussed on the sky. At the mention of his name, he nodded to his brother.

"He can endure battle with Malekith for a time," Loki pressed on, "then we can decide how we will slay the Dark Elves at last."

Bereft of hesitation, Thor led the way through the remainder of the Elvenwood. Upon crossing a mere dozen yards, we broke free of the trees and stumbled into the immense clearing. As we stood at the edge of the wildbloom fields, my mind seemed slow to register the scene laid before us.

Malekith was nowhere to be seen, but it was obvious he had passed this way. The battlefield did not exhibit the normal signs of destruction. There was no fire. There was not much in the way of blood either. In spite of all of that, the dead lay scattered across the field of flattened wildblooms. Nearer to us, I discerned two dozen Light Elves.

A part of me wanted to cry Faradei's name in search of him, but, this time, my wits won out and I duly refrained. I scampered along the forest's edge, dry grass crunching underfoot. Groans sounded from the Light Elves I passed by—reassurance that they were alive and conscious. The blast had been enough to knock them backwards, but the force of it could not kill them. I paced between the archers, my regard passing over each one. Some of their faces seemed familiar, but there was one in particular that I was searching for.

My heart near stopped when I found him.

"Faradei!" Biting my lower lip, I silently berated myself for having spoken so loudly. I collapsed to my knees at his side. He was still, and for one fearful second I thought him dead. Too keenly did I remember Castien surrounded by death and ruination, his life seeping away with every heartbeat. The images faded once Faradei groaned, shifting as much as his prone position would allow.

He blinked up at me, brow cinched. "What happened?"

I frowned, my regard drawn to the hound bite on his shoulder, the wound bloody but cauterized. "You've been injured."

He struggled to reply, several seconds stretching by. Any attempts to speak were forestalled by the arrival of a skiff—our skiff. From the helm, Sif disembarked, jumping off the side. "Everyone, climb aboard," she said, moving to help our Light Elf allies to their feet. "We're retreating from Vanaheim, by order of Lord Njord. There won't be much time before the Bifrost is closed to us."

A chill cavorted down my spine. There were still so many Vanir left in the affected regions of Caravel. If we were to retreat now, back to Asgard, we would be leaving many of them vulnerable. But that meant we could live to fight another day. We just needed to withdraw as many of our forces as possible.

"Faradei, can you tell me where my father is?" I peered down at the king, hoping my words could break through his evident disarray. "Please, I need to know."

"I... he's—he was ahead of us," he replied, eyes turning up and to his right. "The Dark Elf caused some sort of blast. I do not know where Bjoran might have fallen."

I followed his gaze further across the wildbloom fields. In the distance, there stood another thicket that Malekith must have ventured into, judging by the sweeping damage done to the rows of trees. Nearer to us, amongst the tall grass, a Vanir banner peeked above the green. The bright, swirling orange-red sun was prominent against the gold. I simply knew that it belonged to one of my father's retainers. _The setting sun_. The thought slipped through my mind seconds before I spotted the group of unmoving figures, one of which had to have been my father.

In the next moment, I lost all sense of reason.

My legs were carrying me through the field, towards the fallen Vanir, heedless of the dangers that lingered at the edges. With my heartbeat thundering in my ears, I might have heard Loki calling my name, but I could not have been certain. I could not think. I could not feel. I just... had to know.

Even in my lack of awareness, I managed to find my father with little difficulty. He was lying amidst his warriors, blood pooling around him, skin ashen.

There was not a single breath on his lips.

I fell to my knees, hands outstretched. His eyes stared, unseeing, at the clouded sky. I grew still, a helplessness washing over me. There was nothing I could do. The full extent of my powers could not have saved my father, for he was already dead.

My hands hovered over him, trembling, but otherwise immobile. I felt sick. I was unable to move, barely able to breathe. Distantly, I heard footsteps approaching, familiar voices calling after me. _So much death_ , I thought. _And it has not yet ended._

Raising my head, I cast a look to the southwest, where the wildbloom fields stretched on. A dozen helhounds were advancing towards us, flying through the grass, trampling and burning the rainbow of wildblooms underfoot. They were near, so near now, and I realized my friends had been attempting to warn me of their coming.

My lack of sense was replaced by panic. I glanced down and all around for something to defend myself against the horde of hounds—what I was looking for, I could not say. I simply understood that my sword and shield would not prove adequate. I was left vulnerable.

 _This is my fault._ A vast hollowness filled my chest, doubts and fears mingling with grief and guilt. _If we'd come sooner..._

Deep inside, my magic stirred—a well of energy left untapped for many months beyond that which I employed on Niffleheim. It burned and roiled, an uncontrollable storm yearning to break free. Despite the sudden surge of my magic, I could not seem to wield it of my own volition. The moment I saw a helhound bounding towards me, any semblance of control vanished.

A singular burst of magic flowed from me, the power behind it sending every helhound flying. They hit the ground with pitiful cries, the sound of which brought me an infinitesimal shred of satisfaction. But the very act of releasing such magic depleted my energy, and I fell sideways, my shoulder hitting the withered grass.

I could hear, as if from a distance, someone shouting my name. When I felt a hand on my arm, my magic flared again, bright blue around my form. "Eirlys, it's all right." I blinked, my eyes slow to focus on Sif's face. A current of confusion swirled through my mind, for I could've sworn it had been Loki approaching from behind me just moments ago. Nevertheless, the magic dancing along my skin dimmed and faded away.

Her shoulders dropped the moment her gaze fell upon my father. Once her face grew pale, the pain in my heart swelled. That she also knew him to be dead made it all the more real.

I started when Loki appeared beside her, all but skidding to a stop. There were a few new splatters of blood on his cheek—not his own, I realized. "We must go," he said, grasping my arm and hauling me to my feet with a slower, gentler touch than the circumstances warranted. The rise sent blood rushing to my head, and I stumbled into his side where he held me close. "We are fast running out of time. It seems we have drawn Malekith's attention."

Somewhat dazed, I looked towards the thicket at the far end of the wildbloom field and saw the occasional upsurge of the Aether. Malekith was pulling trees from the ground, tearing a path through the woodland. And he was heading straight for us.

Fingers wrapping around my arm, Loki started to pull me away. I kept looking back, watery eyes finding my father's body. In the face of the danger around us—the danger treading in our wake—a sorrowful thought persisted above all else: we needed to give my father a proper burial. But it was a burial he would not receive. We could not bring him back, or any other fallen warrior for that matter. Our sole concern now was surviving the day.

It felt like a blur, returning to the skiff. Sif climbed aboard ahead of us and proffered a hand to help me into the vessel. The surviving Light Elves, including Faradei, were already lining the edges of the skiff, eyes weary, spirits broken. When Faradei looked up at me, I saw the grief in his gaze. He didn't have to ask. He knew my father was dead.

"Allow me to face him again," Thor demanded. We all glanced about to see Thor and Loki attempting to tower over one another at the helm. "I fought him once before. It's time we finished this. You expressed your desire to do so earlier."

Loki gripped the steering mechanism and glowered at Thor. "That was when I thought we had the upper hand and the element of surprise. If you think you can contend with the full might of the Aether, then go on, fight him as you see fit. But we are not equipped to slay him as it is, and I am not willing to risk everything in a misguided attempt." His gaze shifted towards me as he uttered his last remark, "We cannot stay."

The frown tugging at Thor's features indicated that he had further objections, but, upon glancing at me, he did not voice them.

In silence, Loki conducted our skiff into the skies, the clouds above growing darker and greyer with every passing second. As we turned and glided through the air, I could not keep from peering behind. In the field, striding among the dead, Malekith seemed to have spotted us. And he must have recognized us, for he began sprinting across the grass, making chase. On foot, he would never gain on us. His massive black ship, on the other hand, had a much greater chance. The ship was already following, looming over us, casting long shadows upon the land.

Beside me, Thor also took notice. "Loki!"

"I know!" Loki scowled. Once we passed over the rest of the Elvenwood, he brought our skiff low in the hopes that flying lower would put us further from the Dark Elf ship's sight. At the least, I felt assured that we were out of range of their weapons, for the Dark Elves never fired upon us.

While we soared over the plains, I could not keep my eyes off of the massive black mass in our wake. I watched, eyes wide, as it grew nearer. It could've overtaken us, given time, but we reached the Bifrost site before they could ever be given the opportunity. As soon as we came to the rune, the skiff jerked to a halt. Dozens of people crowded around still, waiting their turn to be taken to Asgard.

"We need to leave now," Loki said, leaping to his feet. "This is our last chance." As before, he grabbed my arm and helped me over the edge of the skiff.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted to the skies. "Leave the Bifrost open!"

If left open, the Bifrost could tear through the world itself. _Should anything ever happen to us_ , I thought, _I would have Heimdall allow the Bifrost to destroy these plains and Malekith along with it. Our deaths would come, in any case_.

Loki drew away from my side to dispute Thor. "Is that the best idea? You would risk having Malekith enter through the Bifrost."

"We will not leave these people to be slaughtered," Thor retorted. "Heimdall will ensure Malekith does not reach Asgard."

Despite the narrowing of his eyes, Loki did not argue further. "You place much faith in the gatekeeper."

"Why would I not?" Moving to assist the injured Light Elves, Thor nodded towards the sky. "He has yet to fail us."

Precisely on cue, the Bifrost opened, the constant stream slamming into the ground. Along with dozens of Vanir, we went stumbling into the rush of light. The last thing I saw was the Dark Elf ship bearing down on us, a monstrous shadow come to slay us all. On this day, we were spared its wrath.

Travelling by the Bifrost felt different. I could not be certain if the change was caused by the greater number of people or the extended surge of energy. Regardless of the cause, the journey seemed unsteady. Never had hurtling across the Nine Realms been more unsettling—as though speeding through endless stars and space wasn't frightful enough. My very being shuddered and vibrated, a burning pain roiling in my chest. Before I began to truly fear that we were about to be engulfed in the hazardous energies of the Bifrost, we arrived in the observatory with an abrupt halt.

Most of us went tumbling forwards. Those who had never travelled by the Bifrost before lost their footing, falling upon one another in a jumbled pile of Vanir refugees and injured Elven warriors. Although I was not mired with the same disorientation, I still staggered off to one side and leaned against the observatory wall, hand clutched at my midsection.

It was no longer pain that struck me. It was a sickness churning and twisting my stomach into knots. The sensation was near enough to have me retching on the black marble floor.

I remained there for a time, striving to simply inhale and exhale. Most of the new arrivals began filing out of the observatory in search of safety and healing. But a number of them stayed behind to beseech Heimdall. "Gatekeeper, you must open the Bifrost once more," one Vanir pleaded. "There are a great many of our people coming after us. They must be brought to Asgard! We cannot allow them to perish."

Heimdall stood at the pinnacle of the pedestal, his broadsword clutched before him. If he was at all moved by the Vanir's plight, he did not show it. "In accordance with the All-Father's command, I fear the Bifrost cannot be opened to Vanaheim any longer. The risk would be too great, for allowing the Dark Elves into our midst would mean our undoing."

Anger and frustration and grief flared in the observatory as the Vanir continued to argue. They had family and friends—our kindred—left behind in Caravel and Indova. Both lands were on the verge of being consumed by demons and Dark Elves; everyone who remained was in grave danger. I understood their outrage, but there was nothing that could be done. We could not go back. To see Ragnarök averted, we could not save every life.

"Eirlys, are you harmed?"

Blinking, I lifted my head to see Sif, her brow wrinkled. I hadn't said or moved much since our return; she must've thought the worst. "I... I'm fine," I replied, glancing down at myself to ensure that was in fact the truth. Though I may have been uninjured, blood covered the front of my armour, stained my hands. Images of Volstagg and my father and the blood— _so much blood_ —permeated my mind.

I felt all the warmth seep from my face. Sif must have perceived it, for she stepped closer to grip my shoulders. "We should return to the palace. The day has been... most difficult."

With her arm around my shoulders, she guided me from the observatory and onto the Rainbow Bridge. Vision blurring, I cast a searching look behind. There, in the heart of the observatory, Loki tarried alongside Thor. Between them sat the sword shard that had been loosed from the Rohella Mountains. It was jagged, like a bolt of lightning, and almost too large to fit in the observatory.

"They want to be certain the shard is destroyed," Sif told me. "To ensure our task is fulfilled in its entirety."

 _They want to know that all we paid was not needless_. As we exited the observatory, I was able to meet Loki's gaze for the briefest of moments before he passed from sight.

On the Rainbow Bridge, I was struck by the ever-rising clamour. Injured refugees and warriors alike lined the edges of the bridge, bewildered, shouting, weeping for loved ones lost back home. I froze, disoriented by the sheer number and the noise. On the opposite side of the crowd, people were being shepherded into caravan after caravan to be taken to the palace, Faradei and his Light Elves among them. My gaze fell upon the caravan nearest to us, into which Volstagg was being carried by a group of healers. Fandral and Hogun stood behind, watching as one third of their trio departed for the palace without them.

Numerous healers lingered on the bridge, tending to what seemed like an endless stream of wounds and traumas. Those who could be moved easily were conveyed onto the caravans first, allowing more manoeuvrability for others.

Since we were mostly unscathed, my friends and I were ushered onto the back of a caravan, utilizing the space that was too precarious for anyone else. With the ill and injured tucked into the depths of the transport, I practically hung onto the very end, my legs dangling off the edge. Mere seconds after we started up the Rainbow Bridge, the Bifrost observatory began to spin and churn, a beam of light exuding from its crown. The sword shard had been sent away at last.

Still, the doubts stirred. _Will all this be worth it, in the end? Or are we simply extending our suffering?_

The constant sway of the caravan did little to settle my uneasy mind. Everyone on board remained silent; the squeaking wheels and occasional groan of pain were all that filled the air.

I stared out at the Bifrost, the observatory shrinking further and further in the distance with every passing second. It wasn't until our caravan came to an abrupt halt did I realize that we'd reached the palace. The first to disembark, we hurried down the remainder of the bridge and stood off to the side, watching, helpless, as the injured were carried away. Volstagg was among those conveyed through the grand entrance first, and we hastened to follow.

The four of us trailed after him and his healers for a time. But it was not long before we spotted Hildegund and her children waiting in the entrance hall along with numerous others—all families eagerly anticipating the return of Asgard's warriors. Many of those families were about to be subjected to a painful truth, and I did not want to be present to witness it. With Volstagg's family, however, I had no choice.

As we approached Hildegund, she seemed to have already spotted Volstagg in the bustling crowd. She took one step forward but no more than that, for I intervened. "Hildegund, wait, we must speak first," I said, desperately hoping that my voice did not waver. Fandral hurried to draw the children away so that Sif and I could converse with Hildegund out of their hearing. Even so, their wide, teary eyes did not go without notice.

Hildegund glanced between me and Sif, brow furrowed. "What has happened to Volstagg?"

I exchanged a brief look with Sif before answering. "Volstagg is alive, but he has been badly injured."

"How badly?"

Though I hesitated, Sif took a deep breath and said, "I... I'm afraid he has lost his left leg, just above the knee."

In the blink of an eye, Hildegund turned as white as snow before stumbling backwards. With a shaky breath, she looked upon their children, who were happy to hear whatever tale Fandral was currently spinning for them.

"I am uncertain if you want the children to see him until... until he's ready for them," I told her. "We cannot say when that will be, but the healers are sure to take excellent care of him."

Several long seconds stretched past, and the din of wounded and lost warriors and refugees washed over us. Eventually, Hildegund nodded, eyes wide and watery, her form tense. "I should tell the children he is unwell, at least. They shouldn't—" She broke off, staring in their direction, and inhaled several time as though she could not catch her breath.

Sif reached out to her, but she strode away from us, likely never noticing the outstretched hand. The once bright and vibrant Hildegund approached her children and knelt before them. She explained that Volstagg was ill and needed his rest, and that was all. We could not hear their replies. We did not need to; the fall of their faces was enough. Gudrun's eyes grew wide, brimming with tears. She glanced my way, gaze meeting mine, and I felt like I was struck in the chest. _I could not keep my promise_.

Once the children grew quiet, Hildegund wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and rose to her feet. She expressed her thanks to us softly before ushering the children from the entrance hall in search of peace. As I watched them go, my vision began to darken, tunnelling, my legs no longer able to keep me upright.

Brow cinched, Sif grabbed my arm. "Are you unwell?"

I blinked harshly several times, black spots flitting through my vision. "I'm quite all right…"

Instead of refuting my response, she looked to Fandral and Hogun. "Go on without us."

Fandral appeared on the verge of protesting, but he refrained. "Find us in the sitting chamber. When you can."

Bestowing upon them a final nod, Sif grasped the crook of my arm and led me through the hall. It was not unlike navigating a maze, dodging people left and right. Their numbers seemed endless, their stations varied. There were displaced Vanir, Einherjar shaken by the loss of so many lives, families desperate in their search for those who would not return. The sight made me feel cold.

We entered the corridor of apartments where Sif wordlessly guided me up the stairs, never loosening her hold on my arm. The hall was empty. Was it supposed to feel so empty?

In seconds, she hurried me past half a dozen doors, steering me into my chambers. She sat me on the couch, and the spinning stopped, splotches in my vision fading at last. I tried to breathe, but it never felt like enough. Hands in my lap, I looked down at them, blood staining the metal, the blue cloth, my skin.

Sif reappeared, though it hadn't registered in my mind that she'd been gone. Sitting on the squat table in front of me, she balanced a basin of water between her knees and reached for my hands. Her fingers weren't covered in blood like mine were. _Because all of it belongs to Volstagg_. She remained silent, undoing my bracers, sliding off the gloves. When the purple crystal fell free, she caught it mid-fall and held it aloft. "Is this...?"

"It once belonged to Frigga." I bowed my head. "It did not help as I'd hoped."

She placed it aside, along with my bracers and gloves. When she proffered the basin, filled to the brim, I cleaned my hands. After all the rubbing and scrubbing and scratching, the water clouded red. Transfixed, I stopped, my hands now scarlet from the scouring rather than the blood. "What are we doing, Sif?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"We keep fighting, and I don't know why—" I lifted my head to find her tear-filled gaze. "What are we doing?"

Her shoulders dropped, and she closed her eyes. "We're doing our best."

"Is it enough?" I withdrew my hands from the murky water and let them rest on my lap. "I keep wondering if all we've done... has it all been in vain? What do our small victories amount to? People keep dying around us. How can we expect to stop Surtur when we can barely even face Malekith?"

Sif looked at me then, skin more ashen than I'd ever seen, her glistening eyes ringed with red. After a moment, I realized that she seemed at a loss for words. Loosing a heavy breath, I clasped her hand and squeezed tight. A small comfort in the face of such great sorrow.

No warning preceded the sitting chamber door swinging open. Loki strode inside, his face smeared with soot, his hair a touch dishevelled. He paused by the armrest of the couch, never saying a word.

Sif cast us both a look before standing and leaving the basin on the table, right where she'd been sitting. Turning back to me, she handed me a towel. "You can find me in the sitting chamber, should you need me," she said. Gracing Loki with a curt nod, she made her exit.

My ears burned in the boundless silence that followed.

Loki circled around the couch to stand above me. When I looked up at him, his eyes narrowed. "What were you thinking, running into the field by your lonesome?" he questioned. "Why do you never learn? You could have been killed in an instant."

Jaw clenched, I met his gaze straight on, the towel gripped painfully in my hands. I wanted to react with anger. To shout and rage and strike back. How dare Loki seek to chastise me at a time like this? But I simply stared at him and saw beneath his ire the tiredness etched into his brow, his wan complexion marred with scratches, blood, and bruises. In that moment, the events of the day swept over me, and I buckled under the weight of the memories.

I hadn't even noticed that I was crying until an abrupt sob escaped my lips. Lowering my eyes, I pressed a hand to my mouth in a wasted attempt to smother my sorrow. My whole body shuddered, and through my blurred sight, I could perceive Loki dropping to one knee before me, his expression softening.

With an unexpected tenderness, Loki cupped my face between his hands and wiped the tears away only for them to be replaced by new ones. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have..." He shook his head and sighed. "Your father is dead. In that field... for a moment, I feared you would meet the same fate."

Several long seconds passed us by as I took one shaky breath after another. My tears continued to make their presence known, soundless, sliding down my cheeks. "My father and I had such a distance between us. I thought him cold and reserved—always so hard of heart. I wanted to hate him for it." I closed my eyes and laid my hand atop his. "He might not have been everything I needed through the centuries… but he was still my father."

My voice broke on the last word, and the grief welling in my heart since the day Frigga died overwhelmed me at last. Tears streamed freely, any attempt to speak further catching in my throat. Before I could think about what I was doing, I slumped off the couch and buried my face in the crook of Loki's neck, clutching tightly to him.

In an instant, Loki circled his arms around me, cheek resting upon my head, and he held me close as I allowed myself to mourn at last.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Please take a moment to leave a review. It's always great to hear from you.


	11. Loki: Fuel to Fire

**Author's Note:** Huge thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. It's lovely knowing I still have a readership; you guys are awesome.

As promised, I bring you the next chapter sooner than usual! Hopefully I'll be able to update weekly going forward.

* * *

 **ELEVEN**

* * *

 _loki: fuel to fire_

* * *

The devastation wrought by the attack on Vanaheim had been so egregious that the secondary healing room nearly brimmed over with casualties. With the passing of the night, it had grown quiet. Those vocal in their pain had been treated. Or were dead. Once the house of healing settled into whatever masqueraded as peace in such dire times, the healers allowed visitors to loiter about the chamber. And this was what led to Loki leaning on the doorframe between the veranda and the healing room, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

Volstagg was alive, awake, and somewhat coherent. Their usual band of warriors was eager to pay him a visit, but Loki himself cared little. He had spent most of the hour staring across the waters at the Rainbow Bridge, listening to the incessant peal of the fountain on the veranda. Having heard nothing but that tinkling burble for days on end after cheating death on Midgard, he had to curb the temptation to throw the fountain over the balustrade.

Heaving a sigh, Loki glanced behind to observe the others. Volstagg was surrounded by well-wishers, though they seemed rather more like shadows, their smiles feigned, expressions veiled by evident fear. Fandral and Hogun sat on the chairs at his bed side, while Hildegund, bereft of her children, sat on the edge of his mattress, eyes ever glistening. Eirlys, Thor, and Sif stood by the foot of his bed, rarely offering more than weak smiles and the occasional quip. They all fretted over him, chattering without end despite the fact that Volstagg was still in a stupor from the painkilling nectar.

Loki hadn't had any interest in visiting the house of healing. He hadn't even been certain his presence would be welcome, but no one had protested it thus far. In the end, he could not refuse to see the results of their handiwork—Volstagg was alive, and that was to be considered a victory.

As Volstagg started slipping to one side, Eirlys hurried forward to adjust his pillows in an effort to offer better support to his large frame. In a daze, Volstagg positively beamed. "If I'd known losing a limb would merit me such pampering, I would have done it much sooner."

The macabre jest elicited laughter from some among them. Although she did not laugh, Eirlys smiled for the first time since her father's death. Absent the telltale glimmer in her gaze, it could hardly be called a smile; Loki suspected it was more for Volstagg's comfort than anything else. All the same, it made him feel a strange sense of... relief. He was relieved that they managed to retrieve Volstagg and that he yet lived. To have failed on two fronts would have been intolerable.

After a fashion, Thor parted from the group and moved to join Loki. With a frown, Loki turned away to gaze across the Asgardian sea. Saying nothing, Thor came to a halt beside him, his eyes trained on the Bifrost. It was vacant and unmoving under the sun, though Heimdall and a company of Einherjar were standing guard on the bridge at all times. The gatekeeper had not given himself a respite since the day Surtur rose from Midgard.

"We did not slay Malekith as we hoped," Thor said, his voice more subdued than Loki had ever imagined it could be. "Do you regret the turn of events on Vanaheim?"

Loki sneered at the very question itself. "Do you regret letting him slip so easily through your fingers when he raised Surtur from the depths of Midgard?"

As expected, Thor clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. "All that matters now is that we stop him."

Uncrossing his arms, Loki chuckled. "Do you have a plan?" He held up a finger in mock revelation. "Oh wait, allow me to hazard a guess: you will cut a swathe through the Nine Realms, seeking to engage him in battle again because you were just so successful the first time. The future King of Asgard has only ever been good at punching his way through problems."

Thor tightened his fists but showed a surprising amount of restraint by not actually throwing a punch. It would have been rather undignified for the Prince of Asgard to start a fight in the healing room. "You are angry, Loki, I know."

"Angry?" Loki scoffed. "I am beyond angry. I am profoundly murderous. At this moment, there is nothing I want more than to sink my blade into his throat. You continue to rob me of that opportunity." He couldn't say if he truly blamed Thor for Malekith's continued existence, but, as always, he presented an easy target.

With a deep exhale, Thor moved to stand in the doorway and levelled his gaze with that of Loki. "I know we have had our... differences in the past"—Loki all but snorted at the understatement—"but I need your help in this. We need to work together. No war can be fought alone. Mother wouldn't have wanted us to quarrel like this, especially now."

Loki smiled at that. "No. But she wouldn't exactly have been shocked." Despite his irreverence, he had to admit that he was not in disagreement with Thor. Not that he would care to tell him that. Operating by one's lonesome never worked in Loki's favour—in that, he had firsthand experience. His ire needed to be placed aside. They had to decide their next course of action together.

From the corner of his eye, he perceived Eirlys' approach. Her footsteps were soft and light, little more than a whisper that might have gone unnoticed if he hadn't been so well attuned to it. She stepped between them, though she hovered closer to Loki, her hand trailing down his arm in greeting. "It may be quite some time before Volstagg will be able to fight again," she told them—Thor more than Loki, really. "He'll be given a prosthetic leg, but it will require months for him to become accustomed to it."

Thor gave a small chuckle. "I had not thought Volstagg would ever be able to fight again. That he is alive and well is enough, but it is heartening to hear that the Warriors Three shall not be the Warriors Two for long."

Eirlys responded with a weak smile, but she did not speak on it further. They might very well be dead before Volstagg could ever stand again. Loki was fairly certain that she was thinking the same.

"Have we not wasted enough time here?" he said to her. Even if she did not seek to refute him, she seemed to frown at the assertion that calling upon Volstagg was a waste of time. "The path ahead grows ever more challenging now that Surtur has diminished our allies. Of all the shards within his reach, he chose that of Vanaheim. I am beginning to wonder if quelling the Vanir was his true intent. For the most part, he has succeeded."

"At the least, Lord Njord and his kin survived, even if most of southern Caravel has been overrun by Surtur's demons." Her gaze grew distant. "My people are not completely adrift."

Eyes dropping to the ground, Thor placed a comforting hand on Eirlys' shoulder. "I am sorry for what happened."

Her reaction to his sympathies surprised Loki. The hope in her eyes—that spark of hope that hardly ever wavered—began to dim. Surrendering hope was not in her nature. She had never been one to give up. After all, she never gave up on him. Owing to that, he would not have her crumble beneath the burden of this ordeal. "There may be little we can do to quash the rising number of demons, save slaughter them at endless length until Ragnarök overcomes us all," Loki said. "But there may be some means by which we can combat Malekith."

Eirlys furrowed her brow. "I cannot imagine... Thor might be able to contend with Malekith for a time, but beyond that, we have no hope of defeating him. Not with the Aether still running through his veins."

"Then we must match him in power," Loki stated.

"What?" Thor's brow rose to new heights. "You make it sound so simple."

"Match him in power?" After but a moment, Eirlys dipped her head and smiled a touch. "You mean to obtain the Soul Stone."

Loki could not help but smile in return, pleased by her prompt deduction. "Precisely. We could use it to extract the Aether from him."

She canted her head. "That would be the most desirable outcome, but how can you be so certain the Soul Stone is capable of such a feat?"

"I cannot," he said—a response that garnered a deep frown from Thor. "Even Thanos could only guess the extent of its power, though I suppose that could have been a lie. He was of the opinion that it could draw all kinds of energies from a being—one's soul in particular. There is no knowing for certain, considering that it has not been wielded for over countless millennia. And anyone who's ever had the privilege was not considerate enough to leave a detailed account of how it works."

A contemplative silence fell over them until Thor chuckled. "If none of us has any better ideas, we shall do it your way. We will find the stone."

Eirlys cast them both a skeptical look. "Assuming the Soul Stone will do what we need, I don't suppose obtaining it from Amora will be so simple a task."

"With Amora, nothing is simple," Loki said. The mere thought of the enchantress revitalized his desire to throw the tinkling fountain from the balustrade. No one had seen her since she last spoke to Eirlys ten months ago. She'd vanished into the Cosmos with no trail, no sign, no indication that she was even alive. For one staggering moment, Loki actually feared her death, as it would mean they'd be rendered incapable of finding the Soul Stone.

"How do you intend to seek her out?" Thor asked. "She has kept herself hidden for all this time."

"Through magical means," Loki answered. "I have some idea of which spells may work. Mother used them to find me, after all."

Thor and Eirlys gave him curious looks, but he did not bother to explain further. No one knew that Frigga had discovered him in Chitauri space, just prior to the battle on Midgard, and attempted to dissuade him. He'd brushed past her astral form before she could say anything of substance. At times, he wondered if she could have turned him from his path. A path that, ultimately, brought him here.

"She will have a price, as she always does," Thor said. "And that is assuming that she has not already traded it."

"Then we best pray she has not yet spent the only real means she has." With a huff, Eirlys rubbed at her brow. "Moreover, we mustn't allow the Soul Stone to fall into enemy hands."

The three of them exchanged glances, none giving voice to any argument against this notion—a wordless assent to their new course of action.

"Find her, Loki," Thor said. He then cast a look in the direction of Sif and the remaining members of the Warriors Three. "The rest of us will confer with the All-Father. I would prefer he be kept apprised of our ongoings."

Loki felt compelled to make a disdainful comment, but he refrained. Odin had secluded himself to his sleeping chamber to meditate in lieu of succumbing to the Odinsleep. The deep slumber was long since due, and, with the death of Frigga and the troubles they had faced since then, the pull of the Odinsleep could only have been at its strongest. But Odin was doing everything in his power to preclude the necessity. Should Surtur strike Asgard, the All-Father was their best and last defence. For that, Loki could not revile him. In the shadow of Ragnarök, the Nine Realms needed Odin to survive.

Without another word, Thor parted from them to rejoin the warriors, feigned smile in place once more. In the immediate wake of his departure, Loki and Eirlys made no effort to move. She heaved a sigh and stared out across the sea, a curious stillness about her. The open doorway to the veranda allowed a cool breeze to flow through the room, ruffling her golden-red hair. After a time, she inclined her head to meet his gaze. For a moment, the grief of days past did not seem to weigh so heavily on her shoulders. Though perhaps that was because she had other concerns to occupy her mind.

"Do you really intend on negotiating with Amora?" She moved to draw nearer to him, but something made her stop short. "Or are you going to kill her?"

He could not repress the arch of his brow. "If the situation required it, I would gladly kill her."

Frowning, Eirlys dropped her gaze to the floor.

His amusement faded, and he stepped away from the doorframe to stand before her, his hands enveloping hers. "I would kill her if it meant obtaining the Soul Stone and increasing our chances of survival," he told her. "For whatever it may be worth, I doubt taking her life would be of any help to us. As verbose as she may be, I do believe even death would silence her."

Although she turned her face from him, he glimpsed the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

He could not help but smirk in response. "Now, if there are no further protestations, I fear I must begin my search."

"Protestations?" she said. "On the contrary, I would like to help. I do not think I can withstand another idle moment."

In the pale winter light, it was made plain how exhausted she looked. Her porcelain skin was ashen, eyes glazed, hair unkempt from all the tossing and turning she'd done throughout the night. She had not found any sleep, despite how much she had pretended to.

Loki inclined his head, gesturing down the length of the healing room, towards the door leading into the corridor. "As a matter of fact, I was of a mind to venture to the astronomy spire," he replied. "It may be of some benefit for you to scour the books in my collection for any information regarding the Soul Stone and the Aether. Knowing as much as we can could offer some advantage when we next face Malekith."

Long ago, he had read all that he could find about the Infinity Stones—a youthful curiosity and nothing more. In truth, he did not think the texts in the astronomy spire could offer much. It had been no jest to say those who wielded such stones kept few records. Rather, they kept none at all. Just the same, Eirlys was seeking something with which to occupy her mind, and he was more than willing to provide.

She tilted her head, clearly skeptical about his suggestion. He would not have been surprised if she saw through the false pretence. Nevertheless, she responded with a shaky smile and a nod. "Well, it would cause no harm to try."

Now of like mind, they moved to take their leave. But, halfway to the door, Eirlys paused to look upon her friends, her features steeped in guilt and grief. After several long seconds, she turned and made her exit, not bothering to offer another word.

Together, they headed for the astronomy spire. Side by side, they climbed the tower, their steps slow and heavy, resounding throughout the lofty structure. Eirlys tried to hide her fatigue, head held high, but her white-knuckled hands seemed to waver every time she gripped the railing. The moment she tripped on the spiralling stairs, he took her hand in his, the echo of some distant, faded memory resonating through his mind.

She faltered at his touch, her gaze meeting his in the flickering blue light of the wall sconces. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards before they continued their way to the top in a tranquil silence.

Upon reaching the door, he strode ahead of her, his hand hovering over the handle in a moment of hesitation. The last time he'd passed through this door, he'd finished devising his plan to prove to the Nine Realms—to prove to Odin—that Thor was not fit to be king. It had been years since then. Since he banished Eirlys from Asgard. Since he fell from the Bifrost.

Loki perceived Eirlys' keen eyes on him, her lips parted with questions he had no desire to answer. Body tensing, he pushed the door open and entered.

Dust stirred, filling his nostrils and obstructing his sight. Everything was covered in it, a thick layer of fine powder. No one had ever liked to visit the astronomy spire before. The inclination to do so must've seen an even greater decline after what he'd done.

Avoiding Eirlys' gaze, he circled the table in the centre of the room. She moved round the opposite direction to approach the massive bookcase at the far end, her regard sweeping over the many titles that lined the shelves.

Atop the surface of the table, there sat a journal—his journal, of course. It had done nothing but gather dust over the years. With a mere glance, he recalled transcribing what he knew about the passageways to Jotunheim. He'd carelessly left it open for any passerby to see—not that there were any in the astronomy spire. The cause of his carelessness remained untouched and clear for him to read: a note scribbled in the margin. The large and loopy handwriting simply said, _You mustn't while away your days buried in your books, lest I be made to while away mine alone_.

Eirlys had scrawled it on the page before the notebook had ever been used, having chosen it at random from his collection of blank leather-bound tomes. And when he saw it, some decades later, he'd shoved the journal aside and nearly thrown her hair comb from the balcony. But something stayed his hand, as it would continue to. _Sentiment_ , he supposed. Something he once sought to denounce. Now, he could not seem to quell it.

Jaw clenched, he shut the journal and pushed it further across the table. Eirlys returned mere seconds later, a stack of books in her arms. As she slid them onto the surface, her gaze flitted over his features. Whatever she saw in his expression seemed to give her pause.

She moved closer to him, the warmth of her body seeping into his. With a gentle hand on his arm, she gave him a searching look. "Are you all right?"

The tension in his body lessened at her touch. He reached out and caressed the side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I have no answer to that question, real or otherwise."

Countenance softening, she pressed up on her toes to lay a featherlight kiss upon his mouth. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "We can still do this."

With little more than a small smile, she parted from him, and they set out to accomplish their separate tasks. She took a seat at the table, dozens of books spread before her. In but a moment, she was engrossed in the texts, her eyes flickering back and forth over the words. Not once did she seem uncertain about her search—perhaps her desperation for a distraction negated any doubts she had. Perhaps that was what she wanted.

Seeking some semblance of solitude, Loki took to the balcony and sat, legs crossed. He would have to meditate and focus his magic to find Amora in the great expanse of the Cosmos. It had been a wonder that Frigga was able to locate him in Chitauri space. He'd been careful to hide himself from all eyes, including hers and especially those of Heimdall. How he ever thought he could track Amora was uncertain.

The wind whipped around him while he stretched out with his mind, sensing as far as his magic would allow, which was far less than he would have liked. As Frigga once suspected, the act of destroying the Tesseract appeared to have its lingering effects. It hampered his magic, limiting his abilities, draining him faster than what would have been ordinary for him. He'd never mentioned it to Eirlys, though he imagined she must have noticed a change. Refusing to let his debilitations stop him, he continued his search.

All he found was darkness.

Loki had always been skilled at shrouding himself in the shadows; in fact, he was undeniably the best at it. Amora was nowhere near proficient as he, but his diminished capabilities prevented him from breaking through even the most feeble of veils. It would require more time. Time that they did not have. He could have an eternity, and it would not guarantee that he could find her. Nevertheless, he would not stop. He could not.

Hours trickled by.

Painfully dull hours.

After the first hour, he started to consider whether this entire endeavour was pointless. Would she be willing to trade the Soul Stone? Did she even have it anymore? Could they even wield the stone, assuming it could actually do what they hoped it would? They were being backed off the edge of a cliff with no one but Amora to keep them from plummeting to their deaths.

Loosing a heavy breath, he ran a hand over his face and climbed to his feet. At the table, Eirlys looked at him, eyes wide and expectant. "While your confidence in my abilities is flattering," he said, "I have yet to find her."

She nudged aside a number of books, her shoulders dropping. "And what will we do if we cannot find her? We have no way of defeating Malekith. Nothing written about the Aether can tell us how to extract it from whomever bears it, and we do not have the strength to defeat him otherwise." She sighed, burying her face in her hands. "There must be some other way to vanquish him. Could we not use some other powerful object—another Infinity Stone?"

"Of course we could. It's merely a matter of not knowing how to find them, and our supply of time is already short. The only being who might have known how to locate the Infinity Stones would have been Thanos," Loki replied. "Unfortunately, he took great care in concealing such information from us. Trust was something he clearly lacked."

With a huff, she grabbed a small stack of books and crossed the room to slump on the couch. "Then, as much as we may loath to admit, Amora is our only hope now."

He chuckled, leaning back against the balcony doorframe. "There's no need to be _that_ dramatic."

The remark managed to elicit a smile from her.

All the same, she said little else before returning to the task at hand. Whether it was out of determination or desperation, he could not say. But he knew she was right. Malekith would come for them eventually. They both had their vendettas against each other, for the deaths of Frigga and Nalak. The cursed Dark Elf was their main concern now, which meant that the Soul Stone was their last hope for survival. Even Loki, with all his boundless knowledge, could not see another way to take the Aether from Malekith. The thought compelled him to continue with his search, peering through the dark abyss, reaching out with the last vestiges of his magic.

When Loki opened his eyes next, the sun was just beginning to rise, the horizon awash with a lustrous gold. For a moment, he questioned if he'd fallen asleep on the balcony. His search had been met with such vast amounts of nothing that he'd lost his bearings, his limbs heavy with fatigue. Pressing the pads of his fingers to his eyes, he rose and entered the spire once more.

As the dying warmth of the chamber enveloped him, his regard fell upon Eirlys. She was curled up on the couch, surrounded by a mountain of cushions, a small journal barely in her grasp, dangling over the edge of the seat. He crouched before her, watching her sleep undisturbed. The only movement of her body came from her steady breaths, the gentle rise and fall of her breast. For once, it seemed, she found peace in her sleep.

He took the journal from her, brushing her fingers as he did so. Her skin felt rougher than usual—a product of harsh conditions and ceaseless fighting.

Glancing down at the journal, he realized she'd had her thumb wedged between the pages, marking her place. One glimpse was all he needed. She'd found the note she left for him so long ago. He snapped the book shut and placed it atop the pile sitting on the floor beside the couch. From the armrest, he snatched up a thick woollen blanket, shaking away some of the dust before draping it over her. As she snuggled into the soft warmth, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. At his touch, she seemed to sigh in content.

Every so often, when he looked at her, he would wonder how much time he had left with her. Should they all meet their end in the coming days, he assumed she would be awarded her rightful place in Valhalla alongside all her friends and family. But for him... he could only think there was a special place in Hel reserved for him.

A breathy laugh filled his ears, the very sound setting him on edge, an unpleasant prickling sensation creeping along the back of his neck. "I can scarcely believe my eyes. How sweet the two of you are."

Heaving a sigh, he stood and turned to face her. "Ah, the perpetual thorn in my side has revealed itself at last."

Blond curls cascaded over her shoulders as the sorceress peered all around the astronomy spire with a curious eye. "I never thought I would see the day that you, Loki—of all people—would willingly seek my help," Amora said, her mirage meandering about the room. "But then, you do have much at stake." With her last remark, she peered down at Eirlys.

Out of natural tendency, he followed her gaze to see that Eirlys had stirred. She blinked up at Amora before exchanging a dark look with Loki. "Amora, I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you," she said upon sitting upright, clutching the blanket around herself. "But it is a relief that you have heeded our call."

Amora arched a brow, glancing at Loki then back at Eirlys. "I must admit, I am surprised to see that you have remained together," she commented blithely. "Dear, sweet Eirlys, you are just so forgiving of the hundreds of deaths wrought by his command."

Loki glared at her, his ire already on the tip of his tongue, but Eirlys forestalled any retaliation on his part by surging to her feet, eyes narrowed. "He saved a far greater number than that."

A cool smile graced Amora's features. "Is that what you tell yourself at night?"

He let out a long breath. "We did not seek you out to listen to your remarkably uninspired commentary."

The gleam in her eyes did not fade as she sidled closer, her sharp green gaze flickering between them. "Allow me to guess: you want the Soul Stone. You must be in desperate need of it with Surtur and Malekith on the loose."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Oh, so then you are aware that you are wasting our time with this tedious charade of yours?"

She hummed and inspected some non-existent flaw in her fingernails. "It is difficult for the Nine Realms to ignore when Ragnarök is upon them." Her eyes widened in false shock. "And I heard Lord Bjoran was killed in the attack on Vanaheim. Such a shame. He was always a good and noble man—though a little too stiff for my tastes, really..."

Eirlys' every muscle seemed to grow taut at the mere mention of her father, fists clenching at her sides. He imagined that, if Amora were physically present, Eirlys might have cuffed her in the jaw. "Could we perhaps expedite matters by getting to the point?" she said, her tone far more even than he expected.

The crude glee in Amora's expression dimmed a little, not unlike that of a child disappointed that her peers were no longer inclined to play her games. "Of course, you must understand that I cannot simply give you the stone without something in exchange. Where would be the wisdom in that?"

"Yes, where would be the wisdom in that?" Arms crossed, Loki gave Eirlys a pointed look. "I surmised as much."

But Eirlys gave no acknowledgement to the fact that he was right. Instead, she shook her head, her disbelief evident to all. "I fail to see the wisdom in forcing us into a bargain. You won't gain anything from it if you are dead. The universe itself could drown in fire and darkness. Will you do nothing to stop it?"

"Think of it this way: whether or not you succeed, I would rather have the price paid beforehand," Amora said. "Surely the Soul Stone is worth more than just my life."

It was almost comical, how Eirlys lifted her brow, incredulity reaching new heights.

Even Loki had to question the logic. Did she suppose that they would find some other way to succeed and triumph over Surtur? Or perhaps it was a matter of her not placing any value on her own life. She had nothing to lose. She'd lost her standing among the Asgardians. She'd lost her family. She was a lonesome wanderer in the Nine Realms. Either she would bargain to receive what she wanted or she would die in the attempt.

"Then what is it that you want?" Loki asked.

Amora blinked, then smiled with a nonchalance the situation certainly did not warrant. "I have been tracking a dragon, an infamous dragon—I'm certain you have heard the name: Hakurei."

Upon hearing the name, Loki had to refrain from instantly denying whatever request she was about to make. He'd heard the name. He'd heard it one too many times in his youth. _Hakurei_. A young dragon—by relative standards—that Thor had been more than eager to hunt down and slay. The idea had crossed his mind on a number of occasions, to procure the dragon's scales as a trophy, but Loki managed to convince him that it was a fool's errand every time. A dragon was not to be trifled with. It was no trophy. Hunting bilgesnipe placated Thor for a time, though Loki doubted it would mollify Amora in the slightest.

"Hakurei has been known to wreak havoc across Nidavellir, and that is where I have been able to track the creature," Amora continued, heedless of Loki's reservations. "I need the heart of a dragon for a spell."

Hearing this made Eirlys' expression darken. "The heart of a dragon? For a spell? This sounds unnervingly like dark magic."

"I wish to restore my sister to life. The dragon's heart is only one part of a much larger scheme."

That she was so forthright about her intentions roused suspicion in Loki. In the past, she'd avoided telling him even the smallest of details about the deal she made with the Mad Titan—about her desperate vie to resurrect her sister. He expected her to tease them and draw out the bargain, not state her true desires outright. And, even though her stipulations were by no means light, he would have thought her demands would be more substantial. An Infinity Stone was worth far more than a single dragon's heart.

Eirlys folded her arms over her chest. "Then I was right. It does involve a most unsavoury form of dark magic."

Amora laughed. "Oh, Loki, do you never find her righteousness grating? Especially when you tried to kill so many for a throne of your own."

By that point, Loki struggled to refrain from narrowing his eyes, his suspicions having been roused further. Since the moment her projection appeared in the spire, she'd gone out of her way to comment on his misdeeds—things he knew Eirlys had difficulty overcoming. It was as if she were encouraging conflict, attempting to drive a wedge between them with her underhanded words. But how would that serve her purposes? Dividing them would not help her gain the dragon's heart, and they were already short on time.

Amora had some other scheme at work. And nothing good would come of it.

His only means of discovering what that was entailed feigning ignorance and accepting her terms. "You would have us slay a dragon for you?" he said.

"Yes," she replied, beaming now. "A simple task, really. I will be there to ensure the dragon's heart remains intact."

Abruptly, she held up a finger, clinging to their attention before either of them could interject. "There is another small facet you might like to know before you go gallivanting off into danger, as you seem to love doing." Amora quirked a brow, her gaze finding his. "An old friend of ours has also been chasing the dragon for reasons I can easily speculate. I am certain you recall the one we'd taken to calling 'the Other.'"

 _This demand of Amora's is sounding worse by the word_ , Loki thought. Knowing the Other's intention, however, did lend to understanding the Chitauri's appearance on Nidavellir some days before. They'd utilized the weaknesses between realms to venture to Nidavellir on the cusp of the Convergence so that they could hunt the dragon themselves. That Eirlys and Loki happened upon them was mere coincidence. But what of Amora? Was her desire for the dragon's heart now, at a time like this, also coincidence? Or was Loki correct to believe there was something more sinister at play? He did not trust her before, and now he trusted her even less.

Beside him, Eirlys blanched. "He means to resurrect Thanos."

"Assuming he hopes to use it in the same manner, I would think so." Amora's gaze swept over them, a strange amusement in her expression. "Find me in Nidavellir, deep beneath Bàhn Modan, should you agree to my terms."

In the blink of an eye, Amora vanished, leaving Eirlys and Loki to a sudden deafening silence.

Turning towards Eirlys, he shook his head. "We cannot do as she says."

She canted her head in turn. "And why not? Do you fear we are incapable of slaying a dragon? We faced the Mad Titan once, surely we can vanquish a dragon."

Loki fought the urge to sigh. Already he knew she was not going to heed his warning, but he would give it nevertheless. "My concerns lie with Amora more than they do with the dragon," he remarked. "She asks us to further squander our time contending with the Chitauri to slay a dragon. And we would have no guarantee that she would give us the Soul Stone in the end."

"Why would she withhold the stone from us?" Eirlys said. "It would gain her nothing, and she has stayed true to her word in the past."

This time, Loki did not suppress his sigh. "That was a desperate situation."

She threw up her hands. "Is this not a desperate situation?"

"I'm not even certain that's relevant anymore." He pinched the bridge of his nose and paced nearer to the table. "She is willing to bargain her life—if she wasn't, then she would have given us the stone already. I do believe she has come to realize that she has nothing to lose. Because of that, she could have asked for much more in exchange for the Soul Stone. She should have. But she didn't. Do you not find that suspicious?"

"Truth be told, Loki, I don't know what to think." With a huff, Eirlys turned from him. "We need to discuss this with the others. This is a decision that should not be made lightly. They deserve to have their say."

Before he could even attempt to refute her suggestion, she was halfway across the chamber, showing no signs of slowing. Jaw clenched, Loki had no choice but to follow her, ever trailing yards behind her as they crossed the threshold and descended the spire at a pace greater than which they ascended.

It felt odd, her insistence that they needed to work together, to debate everything as equals. He could not say he disagreed with the notion entirely. It was simply... foreign. He'd operated by his lonesome for so long. Even when he toiled under Thanos' heel, he'd been alone. He could not recall what it was like to rely on others, but he knew now it was a necessity. _No war can be fought alone_.

They reached their company's oft occupied sitting chamber at daybreak. Thor and the warriors seemed to have waited all night, each somewhat unkempt but otherwise clean. The triangular hearth smouldered in the pale light, having gone untended for hours. Sif and Hogun sat side by side on one of the sofas, while Thor lingered by the open veranda doors, staring across the water. At the far end of the hearth, Fandral knelt with his hands outstretched over the coals, the colour in his face entirely absent, his eyes hollow. He was the first to look up upon their entry.

"Ah, you've arrived at last. For a moment there, we feared we might be here all week," he said, putting on his most spirited voice. "I presume you've located Amora? What levy must we be forced to pay?"

Eirlys cast Loki a quick glance, as if daring him to speak, but he merely stood beside her, silent. And she explained to them everything that occurred in the astronomy spire. Everything save Amora's vindictive words and Loki's suspicions. Loki could see it quite clearly—she did not believe that Amora had ill intent. Or she was determined to ignore the fact. Worse still, she would not have any difficulty convincing the others of the same. They were just as desperate as she was.

Once Eirlys finished regaling them in her tale, Sif rose to her feet, a fur blanket clutched around her shoulders. "Are you seriously suggesting we help Amora in exchange for the Soul Stone?" _Of course she would be the first to protest_ —not that Loki's opinion of Amora was any different. "The last time we crossed paths with her, Fandral was a blubbering mess ranting about how she was the light of his life and he would do anything to be worthy of her undying love."

Fandral grimaced. "Yes, we need not all be reminded of that."

"She did help us defeat the Mad Titan," Eirlys remarked, her words seeming far afield as she stepped nearer to the hearth, the distance between her and Loki growing. "There are worse people in the Nine Realms, and helping her remains the best option to acquire the stone."

"Amora changed allegiances when it benefitted her most, regardless of what she may have told you," Loki retorted. "And that is why I cannot assent to accepting her terms. Her loyalties lie with the highest bidder, and we have no way of knowing who that is."

Thor moved away from the veranda doors, brow furrowed. "Then you suspect this proposal of hers contains an ulterior motive? That this is a trap of sorts?"

"What do you think?" Loki bit his tongue, refraining from mocking a question whose answer was most obvious. "It is a possibility I'm more than willing to entertain. There is always a chance that she has already struck a deal with someone else, and there is no knowing if that someone else is Surtur. He could spare her life and offer her a place in his new dominion."

When Eirlys looked back at him, her face appeared to pale a little more, and Loki actually thought that he'd had her convinced. Alas, her folly won out and she did not relent. "Whether you are right or wrong, what do you propose we do? Capture her? Question her? You know that would not work. She would offer nothing but lies and perhaps a bit of spite to accompany it."

"I can be very persuasive."

Though Loki never removed his gaze from Eirlys, Sif sought to interject. "As much as I abhor Amora, Eirlys has a point. Attempting to capture her would only ensure that we have turned her against us. Perhaps we should do as she says."

Everyone in the room glanced in Loki's direction, clearly expecting him to refute the notion. Certainly, he wanted to. But Loki had to admit that he had no sound alternative. Finding another way out—that was what he had always been known for. An endless supply of tricks tucked away. And yet the past several years had proven that reputation wrong. His magic was diminished, and so was his mind, it seemed—the product of too many sleepless nights. Of late, he'd been mostly fortunate. He'd been forced to depend on others. He'd been forced to collaborate with those he once ridiculed. For all its necessity, he despised it.

And now, when he needed Eirlys to be on his side, she would not listen. She would not heed his qualms, even defying logic to do so. Fists clenched at his sides, Loki closed the distance between them, almost towering over her. "Amora cannot be trusted."

"None of us have ever claimed to trust her." Eirlys sighed and crossed her arms. "But trust... sometimes trust is not needed to do what must be done." Shoulders drooping, she peered up at him straight on. "The humans did not trust you when we confronted the Mad Titan. Some of them protested your presence entirely. That did not stop them from accepting your assistance."

Loki frowned and shook his head. "That was because they knew I would not have let anything happen to you."

Though her lips parted, she could not seem to formulate a response to that. In the silence, no one else dared to speak.

"Eirlys, we must stop and consider this," he said. "You're being irrational if you think any good can come of this bargain."

"I'm being irrational?" She gave him a pointed look. "That's highly amusing coming from you."

At that, he drew back, hers words stinging more than they should have.

Running a hand through her hair, Eirlys glanced round at her friends. They each had pinched expressions, some shifting from one foot to the other, trying their hardest to direct their attention elsewhere. "We haven't the time to debate this," Eirlys remarked. "Our sole course of action is to depart for Nidavellir immediately. You don't know that she's colluding with Surtur."

"And you don't know that she isn't," he retorted.

Eirlys threw up her hands and turned from him, looking to Thor instead. "What say you? Would you risk rousing Amora's ire with hostile precautions? Or would you be willing to do exactly as she asks?"

A lengthy moment of silence passed as Thor glanced between Eirlys and Loki, brow furrowed as deeply as ever. Eventually, he loosed a breath and lowered his eyes. "I fear we have no choice but to comply," he said. "Amora would see through any trick or scheme of ours in an instant. She knows we cannot trust her. She will be especially cautious, therefore we cannot take the risk of acting against her."

To Thor's left, Fandral nodded, frowning all the while. "Wary as I am of Amora, I think we should accept her bargain. We have taken risks in the past—too many, some might say. Attempting to deceive Amora is not a risk I would be willing to take."

"Good, then we are in agreement," Eirlys stated definitively. "We must assemble our gear and meet in the Bifrost observatory as soon as possible."

While most of them made to take their leave, Sif paused to speak, "Eirlys, perhaps we should—"

"This is idiotic," Loki snapped, barely taking heed of Sif's words. And yet everyone else stopped to heed his. "Is this not a risk in and of itself? You are all being blind and foolish if you think slaying a dragon for Amora is the solution."

"Why? Because you are _so_ convinced that this bargain of hers is some sort of ploy? You fear the danger that she seeks to bring upon us?" Eirlys retorted. "Turning against her could only make things worse. We don't know anything. And we cannot stand here and waste another moment."

The second she moved to leave, he darted forwards and grabbed her arm, dragging her to a stop. Body tense, she glared at him with watery eyes. He could see it etched plainly in her face: the grief, the resolve, the reckless desire to keep others safe no matter the cost. After what occurred on Vanaheim, he could only hazard a guess as to how unruly that impulse had become.

"It's not just that." Loki let his hand slide along her arm, his fingers curling over the rough, scarred skin on her forearm. "Did she not seem awfully vindictive for one seeking our favour?"

She canted her head to one side. "Those were not the first unkind words she's spoken to us. I think, perhaps, such conduct from her should be expected. She knew we would not turn away any bargain she proposed."

"And if she was so certain of that, then why would she not add to her demands?" he remarked. "She is wont to manipulate, and wounding you with words gains her nothing. Believe me, I have had experience enough manipulating others. If this was what she truly wanted—if restoring her sister to life was her only goal—then she would have played on your sympathies. Even you must realize something is amiss."

The furrow in her brow deepened at that. "Of course I do. _Everything_ is amiss!" Swallowing visibly, she closed her eyes and laid a hand on her brow. "That is why I believe we have no choice but to do as Amora has asked, no matter what risks may come of it. The greater risk would be to make any sort of attempt against her. She could very well take the Soul Stone to anyone else who is willing to fulfill her wish."

Loki tightened his grip on her wrist, drawing her closer. "Unless she's already gone to Surtur."

"You have no way of knowing that!" Eirlys turned her face from him and took a deep breath, as if calming herself. Then, shaking her head, she gazed up at him. "We can keep talking in circles until the Nine Realms are consumed by flame. Should we scheme against her, she will see through all of our designs. It would be in our best interest to simply do as she says."

"That is not a risk I am willing to take."

"But I am."

Though Loki managed to suppress a scoff at that, he still spoke without care, "The last time you insisted on taking a thoughtless risk, people perished, including your father."

She flinched, the colour draining from her face. A sharp silence descended upon the room, and Loki became all too aware of every pair of eyes focussed solely on them. Shame flooded him immediately, but before he could amend his words, Eirlys retaliated, "You speak as though you have not done worse. At the least, I have not killed innocents."

And there it was. As often as she pretended that his misdeeds did not bother her, he knew it lingered in the back of her mind. That he killed so many—killed a man _she knew_ —was something that could not be easily forgotten, even if she claimed to forgive him. Amora knew to make a point of mentioning it multiple times in the short while she'd spoken to them. This was why. It was so simple for Eirlys to think just as everyone else did. They all looked upon him with the same disdain and suspicion as they would any of Asgard's enemies. Of course she would feel the same.

Her cheeks reddened, but she did not seek to further their dispute. Pulling her arm from his grasp, she lowered her eyes, deliberately avoiding his gaze and the gazes of her friends, still watching them in uneasy quietude. "Since you stand alone in your objections to this arrangement, we shall proceed without you," she murmured. "Thor and the rest of our company agree, and that is all that matters." The statement felt like a blow to his chest. Drawing away from him, she looked to the others. "We shall assemble in the Bifrost within the hour."

Absent another word, she sidestepped him, lifting her chin in a show of resolve. There was a reluctance in her step, but, inevitably, she strode forth and exited the chamber, disappearing into the corridor.

In her wake, the chamber fell into an unbearable stillness. Those who remained stared at Loki, seeming hesitant to leave him be, as if they wished to say something without knowing what to say. Not that he cared. He didn't want to hear another word.

Of course, Thor had to outstretch his hand, brow cinched, in some insufferable attempt to console him. "Loki—"

"Don't even dare." Loki scowled at him from across the hearth, not bothering to even acknowledge the warriors on either side. "You've already said enough."

Turning his back on them, he swept out of the room and marched down the hall. Eirlys was nowhere in sight, and he could only assume that she'd made her way back to her chambers to gather her weaponry and equip her gear. As he stormed through the corridors, in the direction of the royal apartments, the Einherjar guards watched him with careful eyes, always suspicious. Always distrustful. After everything he did for them—all of them, all of the Nine Realms—they still didn't have a shred of faith in him.

He ignored every single one of them, marching back to his own chambers. In the corridor, with his fingers clenched around the handle, he looked in the direction of Eirlys' sitting room. For one second, he considered barging in to continue their discussion. A discussion that would only delve further into a quarrel. But he decided against it. Words were not going to convince her.

Heaving a deep sigh, he entered his sitting room and slammed the door behind him. He went to his desk first, leaning over it, his hands braced on the surface. There, laid out atop one another, were maps of various worlds. He'd thought to familiarize himself with each realm that had a sword shard, knowing that they would eventually seek them out. Chief among the worlds was Vanaheim. The sight of it had him recalling with such clarity the cruel accusations he imparted upon Eirlys. To suggest that she was responsible for her father's death...

A snarl caught in his throat before he swept every map and scrap of parchment aside, flinging them far across the room where they crashed into the bookcase.

He took one heavy breath.

Then another.

For a moment, Loki wanted nothing more than to leave them to their chosen fate. He could simply depart from Asgard, escape whatever punishment Odin inevitably had planned for him. He could let them fight this war without him, fall prey to the obvious trap Amora laid before them. But then he thought of Eirlys. Furious as he was with her, he couldn't imagine standing aside and letting any ill befall her. And ill would certainly befall Eirlys and her friends if he did not accompany them. He couldn't let that happen. Although he was loathe to admit it, the fate of the Cosmos relied rather heavily on them.

Jaw clenched, Loki straightened and ran a hand through his hair. He knew what he had to do. Aside from saving them from themselves, he could not let this opportunity go to waste. They might not have felt so inclined to thwart Amora, but that did not mean that he couldn't enact his own countermeasures as he saw fit. Their compliance would provide the guise he needed to convince Amora that he was no threat.

After regaining some semblance of composure, Loki gathered his weapons and took his leave, once again prepared to stand alone amongst the crowd.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you have moment, please leave a review!

The chapter's title is a reference to _Fuel to Fire_ by Agnes Obel.


	12. Loki: A Rush of Blood to the Head

**Author's Note:** Tadaaa! Here's another Loki chapter to feast your eyes on.

As always, a huge thanks to those who have reviewed, favourited, and/or alerted. It's heartening to know you guys are still out there!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **TWELVE**

* * *

 _loki: a rush of blood to the head_

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Just as Eirlys bade the others, Loki found himself in the heart of the observatory within the hour, armed with a finely wrought Asgardian spear and more throwing knives than one could count. The spear was not his own—a standard Einherjar issue—but, despite its lack of distinction, it seemed a better alternative to injuring and burning his hands again. Of most import, hidden in one of the pouches on his belt, he carried a cuff that would bind Amora's magic.

Even after venturing down into the dungeons to retrieve the magic-suppressing cuff, Loki had been the first to reach the Bifrost. Heimdall didn't speak a word to him upon his arrival. Not that he needed to. The gatekeeper would have seen and heard everything. At the least, Loki was thankful that he was not prone to imparting derisive comments like certain others were.

Still, Loki glanced back at the towering Asgardian. It occurred to him that Heimdall might have seen him taking the cuff from the dungeons, for his cloaking magic had been lacking of late. He wondered if the gatekeeper would inform the others of his intentions. _That depends on whether or not Heimdall too has been swayed by Eirlys' words_ , Loki thought _._

"I do wonder, gatekeeper," he said, "do you agree with this foolhardy plan of theirs?"

Heimdall's stoic expression did not change, but the grip on his broadsword tightened visibly. Seconds passed, and Loki was under the impression that he would deign not to answer. Yet Heimdall spoke. "On the one hand, Amora is in possession of the Soul Stone, and we have no other means to obtain it. On the other, she shrouds herself from all eyes, including mine, and I would not trust her in the slightest." He shifted a touch to peer down on Loki. "I trust you of all people would understand that."

Loki lifted a brow. "Then you are in agreement with me."

For a lengthy moment, Heimdall stared at him, his expression betraying nothing. Loki could only assume that he was loathe to admit that they agreed on anything. Nevertheless, he replied, "It appears that I am."

"Yet you will do nothing to stop them."

Canting his head to one side, Heimdall gave a rather pointed look at Loki's belt pouch, where he was keeping the magic cuff. "It appears you have no intention to."

"So neither will you warn them?" Loki asked.

Heimdall straightened and glanced over his shoulder, towards the palace. Loki had to wonder what it was that he saw, but the gatekeeper made no mention of it. "I will not," Heimdall told him. "Keep up your guard, Loki. Amora is quicker than most."

At that, Loki smirked. "Then I shall be sure to catch her unawares."

A grave look was the last that Heimdall gave him. "Amora is never unaware."

Right then, Eirlys entered the observatory. To Loki's surprise, Thor followed shortly in her wake, showing an unusual amount of punctuality. Perhaps the coming of Ragnarök did not warrant the flippancy of old.

While Thor offered him a single nod in greeting, Eirlys provided little else besides a cool look before leaving the observatory to await their companions on the Rainbow Bridge.

Thor strode across the observatory to stand at Loki's side, staring through the aperture. "I did not think you would change your mind," Thor remarked, not once removing his gaze from the vast darkness before them. "After the words that were exchanged..." He trailed off and cleared his throat, clearly discomfited by thoughts of the quarrel that they'd all been privy to less than an hour earlier.

With a sigh, Loki shook his head. "And let you all fall victim to your own reckless schemes? The Nine Realms would have a greater chance of surviving with you than without."

In return, Thor lifted a brow. "Even so, you were never one to abide Amora and her inclinations."

Loki opted not to deny the assumption. It would benefit him if everyone were to believe that he had simply changed his mind and decided to accept Amora's offer. Of course, it would be suspicious of him to be too amenable. "Do you truly think it wise to give her the heart of a dragon?"

Frowning, Thor returned his regard to the gloom. "I know not what to think. Amora is the only one who knows where the Soul Stone is hidden. We are slaves to her whim." He seemed to grimace at his own poorly chosen words. "Be that as it may, what Amora does with the heart is of little consequence in the face of obtaining the means to defeat Malekith."

Jaw set, Loki gripped his spear tighter. It sounded rather like Thor had too few misgivings about the arrangement—he did not suspect Amora of siding with Surtur at all. Perhaps that was for the better. By submitting to her plans and keeping her at ease, there was a greater opportunity to discern if there really was anything amiss and catch her off guard. That meant that the others could not be included in this strategy of his either; they needed to think that he was willing to comply with her conditions.

After a moment, he merely inclined his head towards Thor. "What she does with it is no concern of mine."

Thor chuckled, to which Loki quirked a brow in response. "I may have been fooled by your lies in the past, but this is one truth you cannot conceal from me," he said. "You would go to great lengths to ensure that Amora does not get the heart."

Loki had to smirk, almost impressed by Thor's prescience. Regardless of whether or not Amora had ulterior motives, he greatly misliked the idea of her having the heart of a dragon. "You're right. I would not permit her the satisfaction, not when she so carelessly whiles away her days in the midst of Ragnarök. But this is one situation in which we must tread with caution. I would allow her the heart if it gained us the Soul Stone. This is little I would not do for the opportunity to kill Malekith." When silence followed his declaration, he canted his head. "What? No argument?"

Crossing his arms, Thor shook his head. "No, I agree with you, Brother. We need the Soul Stone, even if it means the dragon's heart falls into her hands."

That Thor still called him 'Brother' after all this time unsettled him. Even after everything that occurred between them, the bitterness and the bloodshed, they found a way to overcome their differences to achieve a common goal. Loki wanted to laugh at the thought. Perhaps that was how things had always been—a constant struggle to attain balance between their differences. In this endeavour, however, Loki sought to use their difference of opinion to his advantage. They would lull Amora into a sense of acquiescence before he struck.

"And what did the All-Father have to say about this venture?" Loki asked.

"Rather little." Thor shifted from one foot to the other, glancing down at Mjolnir. "He seemed to consider reclaiming the Soul Stone as imperative, though he said nothing of the dragon. I do not believe it concerns him."

Loki snorted softly. "If Odin suspects we have even the slimmest chance of succeeding, he has no care for the risks involved. He did send his Einherjar to blast us from the sky, if you recall."

While Thor's expression darkened, he did not refute him.

In due time, the rest of their company arrived, well armed and prepared to face anything the Nine Realms hurled at them. Most of their weapons would not prove effective against a dragon—that would have to be left to Sif and her Drekisbane. They were, however, fit to lay waste to the Chitauri they would no doubt encounter.

Heimdall watched, ever silent, as they gathered at the fore of the observatory.

"I feel it has to be said that I remain skeptical about this entire venture," Fandral said, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword.

Never saying a word, Loki threw Eirlys a pointed look, one that she wholeheartedly ignored.

"We haven't much choice," Sif remarked. "At any rate, if Skjoldis can slay a dragon by her lonesome, surely half a dozen of us can."

"You say that only because you have wanted to slay a dragon for many years," Hogun observed.

A derisive breath of laughter escaped Loki's lips. "Always trying to prove something."

This time, both Eirlys and Sif shot glares in his direction.

Without preamble, the gatekeeper activated the Bifrost. It shuddered underfoot, light streaking through the air. As it began to turn, the power growing, Loki glanced towards Eirlys once more. She stared straight ahead, still refusing to return his gaze.

When the Bifrost revolved at full speed, charged in its entirety, Heimdall slid his broadsword into place. Unlike every previous undertaking, he gave no words of encouragement.

They went careening across the Nine Realms, the sensation no more pleasant than it had ever been. Loki's breath eluded him as they travelled past stars and dust and celestial bodies. In mere seconds, Nidavellir appeared ahead of them. The snow-covered landmass in the north was their destination this day.

Snow burst all around them the moment they landed. To Loki's immediate right, Eirlys hunched over, arms folded over her torso. He could hear her cursing under her breath before she waved a hand above her head in an attempt to ward the cold away with a spell. Whether it was effective, he could not say, for she remained curled in on herself and shivering.

Everyone else did not seem to fare much better. Only Loki stood tall among them, enduring the cold and the snow as if they were little more than a mild breeze. "Follow me," he said, starting forwards. "I know how to enter Bàhn Modan. It is not far."

 _Bàhn Modan_. The White Mountain. It was not the most imaginative of names, but the ancient Dwarves never had much interest in poetry. Their artistry had lain in metalworking, jewelcrafting, pottery—visual arts and the like. Loki hadn't stepped beneath the surface of Nidavellir in what must have been centuries. He'd been a frequent visitor, familiar to the Dwarves of Bàhn Modan especially. He had to wonder how receptive they would be to him now.

The trek to the base of the mountain was not long; Heimdall had placed them well, as was to be expected. The path that led to the entranceway was buried in white. But Loki had trod it so many times that he slogged through the heavy knee-high snow, able to make his way towards the door with little other guidance.

He disregarded the whispers of the others behind him and walked straight to the steepest rock face on this side of the mountain. To the untrained eye, it may have appeared like the rest of the mountainside. In truth, it was a carefully crafted door, smooth and completely inconspicuous—one of many scattered about the base of the mountain.

This hidden door in particular was reserved for special guests, like a prince of Asgard, so that they could enter Bàhn Modan unharrassed. Dwarves tended to fuss over visitors who arrived through the grand entrance, royalty or not. This meant that Loki rarely utilized the grand entrance. Thor, on the other hand, loved to revel in the massive greeting; never did he forego an opportunity to be celebrated.

At the base of the mountain, Loki brushed aside the snow that clung to the rock face. Glancing up and down, he ran his fingers along the stone, feeling for the shallow dip. He let his palm settle in the small recess and murmured a few words in old Dwarvish.

One second passed. Then two.

Just as Fandral opened his mouth to voice what was most assuredly an idiotic remark, the stone rumbled and shifted, sliding inwards to grant them entrance. Despite the dark, foreboding depths it gave way to, Loki strode forth with barely even a backwards glance.

The door shut in their wake, forcing Loki to cast an orb of light in the palm of his hand. They paced the winding paths, travelling deeper beneath the surface of the world, the gloom never lifting. It must have been quite some time since anyone used the entrance, for the Dwarves no longer bothered to light the torches that lined its walls.

Loki walked at the fore, rolling his eyes at the sound of Fandral's doubtful muttering. After a time, Eirlys came to match his stride, never less than two yards from him. She did not glance his way, nor did she speak to him. Through the shadows, he observed her furrowed brow, her pursed lips. She kept peering around them, eyes never stagnating. The dull feeling in his chest grew heavier and heavier every time the compulsion to say something permeated his mind. But he never gave in.

Eventually, Loki brought them to a sudden halt. Everyone else exchanged dubious looks, eyes narrowed.

Even Thor, who had used this entrance once or twice, blinked in confusion. "Loki, what—?"

Loki held up a hand to silence him—to his amusement, Thor actually obeyed the gesture.

From the darkness that surrounded them, there appeared the flicker of firelight. Two flickers, to be precise. They bobbed up and down, almost as though they were a pair of torches walking by their lonesome. As they neared, the speed of their approach seemed to increase. Then they both stopped once they were within sight.

Weapons at the ready, four Dwarves stood opposite them: two axe wielders, a swordsman, and one archer. In response, Fandral drew his sword and Eirlys reached for Silvertongue. Loki, on the other hand, simply scanned the faces of the Dwarves before them until he settled on the one in the middle: the tallest of the group, with a long brown beard and bright blue eyes. The Dwarf seemed to recognize him in turn.

"By the Norns above, is that... Prince Loki?"

Loki wanted to laugh at the use of his title, but he duly refrained. Instead, he gave a gracious bow, as his mother once taught him. "Prince Brokk, I do believe it has been a hundred years since we last met."

Brokk nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course, at the luxury auction!"

Then, with a slight start, he appeared to remember the circumstances in which they stood. "Lower your weapons!" he shouted to his warriors. "Lower your weapons. These are Asgardians, can't you see?"

From the midst of the group, Thor stepped forwards to stand beside Loki. "We apologize for having arrived with no prior notice."

"Nonsense! Prince Thor, you and your brother are always welcome here in Bàhn Modan." Turning to face the direction from which the Dwarves had come, Brokk gestured into the shadows with his torch, flecks of wood and embers tumbling to the ground and dying in little puffs of smoke. "Please, come this way. Let's find a more pleasant place to speak. These tunnels are good for little more than the occasional patrol these days—what a fortune it is that one of our scouts heard you opening the door!"

Loki and Thor shared a glanced. It would do no good to refuse his hospitality. There _were_ several things that needed to be discussed with him, after all. "Of course," Thor said at last. "Your generosity knows no bounds, Prince Brokk."

The Dwarves led the way, navigating the near pitch-black tunnels with ease. Brokk chattered at length to Thor and asked after the rest of the Asgardian royal family. It seemed Thor did not yet have the heart to share what happened to Frigga nor the coming of Ragnarök, for he said nothing other than they were 'all well.'

Stepping out of the dark and dank tunnels at last, they had to shield their eyes from the sheer radiance of the tremendous cavern. Loki could have sworn he heard Eirlys gasp at the sight before them. He had to admit, after all these years, he still found it to be quite the wondrous view.

They came to a standstill upon an upper deck overlooking the vast city of Bàhn Modan. As large as it was, the size of the city did not rival that of Asgard. However, it did remind Loki of New York City—the part that Agent Barton referred to as Manhattan. At the clench of his stomach, he brushed the memory aside, disinclined to linger on his past transgressions.

Bàhn Modan sat in the very heart of the mountain, the ceiling near four hundred yards in height. Thousands upon thousands of crystals hung from the ceiling, each of them clear and sparkling. They refracted the light from a source of which he'd never been certain, casting it upon the city below. It made the light so bright and _warm_ that it felt as though they were standing in the sun. In fact, it was brighter down here than it had been on the surface of Nidavellir.

Brokk continued to lead them down the stairs from the upper deck and into the city. Countless citizens roamed the streets, passing between buildings that had been intricately carved from the mountain limestone they lived within. Brightly coloured curtains covered the windows, matching their brightly coloured clothes.

They pressed through the crowds, garnering a fair bit of attention from the Dwarvish citizens. Visits from outsiders had become increasingly uncommon over the years, visits from royalty even more so.

Eventually, they descended another set of stairs that took them to a quieter gated area. "Come along, come along." Brokk waved them through the gate. "This garden is reserved for private gatherings. We shall not be disturbed—nor shall we disturb anyone!"

The moment they stepped onto the lustrous grass, Eirlys blurted out, "A garden? Here?"

"Oh yes," Brokk chuckled and gestured to the ceiling. "The crystals above refract the firelight, transforming it into what is—in essence—sunlight. It was the great blacksmiths Dvalinn and Durin who discovered their magical properties whilst on the hunt for fine metals. They say the pair of geniuses later forged Drekisbane, the legendary weapon wielded by Skjoldis herself."

Eyes brightening, Sif made to speak, but Loki intervened in the interest of advancing the conversation in a more productive direction. "Should we sit and talk?" he asked, pointedly ignoring Sif's withering look. "We have much to discuss."

Brokk gave a nod that seemed too cheerful for the tidings they were about to share, not that he was any the wiser. "Of course! This way."

Their party crossed the garden, treading over perfect green grass, the edges lined with flowerbeds. At the far end, they approached a round table, one that sat only four. As was customary in the case of conferring royalty, Brokk, Thor, and Loki took their seats, while the rest remained standing.

Once everyone settled, Brokk glanced to his left where Eirlys stood. A grin engulfed his features, and he looked back at Loki. "Could it be? Is this your wife?"

The absolute widening of Eirlys' eyes would have made Loki laugh if it had not been for their current state of affairs. She peered over at him, lips parting—in protest or otherwise, he could not say.

At any rate, Brokk was too preoccupied with enthusing over her to notice her bewilderment. He grabbed her hand, squinting down at the ring he'd forged so long ago. "What a joyous discovery! You have such strength, such spirit, I can sense it. A fine match you two make," Brokk gushed to her. "Loki was always my most favoured customer—bought an endless supply of knives and daggers from me. For his fine taste, I bestowed upon him a ring to give to his future bride. And now here you stand, a princess of Asgard. I suppose congratulations are in order!"

While Eirlys stiffened, her hesitant words unable to be given voice, Fandral saw fit to interject. "Did... did you not hear about what happened in Asgard several years ago?"

The Dwarves shook their heads in unison, brows wrinkled. "No, I don't believe anyone has been to the surface in a number of decades," Brokk replied. "Why?"

Loki suppressed a heavy sigh. Having Fandral share the tale of his true lineage and how he'd been stripped of his royal title was the last thing they needed right now. A royal title that was never truly his. All the questions and confusion that would arise... even if it was a mere fraction of the shock Loki had endured, it would have been too much.

Narrowing his eyes at Fandral, Loki seized the conversation once more. "I fear we bring grave tidings." _The understatement of the century_. "Several days past, we witnessed the beginning of what we have come to believe is Ragnarök."

There were gasps and mouths agape accompanied by the general paling of faces.

"You are seeking a way to avert the Great Dusk?" Brokk asked, glancing desperately from Loki to Thor. "Is that why you have come? To ask for our assistance?"

"In part, yes." Thor leaned his arms on the table. "Of most importance, we have come in search of a sorceress. She has a... relic that may help us in the coming conflict."

Prince Brokk exchanged a questioning look with one among his company, and she gave a nod in response. "Indeed, I do recall a sorceress passing through the grand entrance a day or so past," he told them. "She was difficult to miss. We have not had an Asgardian visitor in many decades."

"Do you know where we might be able to find her?" Thor asked.

As before, Brokk looked to his chief scout. "Dagna, you saw her last, did you not?"

Dagna supplied a curt nod. "She was headed towards the Vestri Mines—deep tunnels that have not been touched in near a millennia. There's nothing of value in those mines, so we saw no need to bar her access."

Loki lifted a sardonic brow. "Then I suppose she did not see fit to inform you of the dragon that has taken up residence in those mines."

Brokk started. "Is that true? Is that why she has gone into the mines?"

Gripping his spear close, Loki rose to his feet. "So she claims. We best find her, nevertheless."

"Of course, we shall not hinder your quest," Brokk replied.

Before they could depart, Thor cleared his throat and said, "Word was sent to your people several days ago, but it seems the message did not reach you. I... we hoped you might be able to lend aid in the coming days."

When Thor stood, Brokk did the same and bowed low. "It must be discussed with King Eitri first, though I cannot imagine my brother would deny such a request. He will be most distressed about the coming of Ragnarök... to say the least. But I have great faith in the sons of Odin." Some of his good cheer made its return, albeit with less fervour. "You will find a way to save us all."

The prince provided directions to the western edges of the city, where the gates of the Vestri Mines lay. Offering more bows and words of good fortune, he and his warriors parted ways with them to confer with their king.

Loki took the lead once more, wending through the bustle of people on the street. They passed through a residential quarter, which garnered them a few curious looks. The Dwarves had yet to know that Ragnarök was upon them, but that would soon change.

"Is that the gate?" Sif said, pointing down an alley where a dark bronze door sat embedded at the base of the limestone wall. "It's fairly unremarkable, wouldn't you say?"

In the back of his mind, Loki commended her keen eye. "I'd say that was the idea."

He strode ahead, sidling into the narrow alleyway. Upon reaching the wall, he noticed the gate had been left unlatched, the thick bronze door on the righthand side slightly ajar. With the nudge of his boot, Loki pushed his way through and lit another orb of light in his hand. It looked much like the tunnels through which they'd entered Bàhn Modan, dark and all too uninviting. Just the same, Loki started forwards, and the rest of the group followed.

Navigating these shadowed mountain passages was a touch more disconcerting. These were passages Loki did not know. Passages that would ultimately lead them to a dragon, the Chitauri, and a scheming Amora.

It was almost amusing. A part of him wanted to be proven wrong for once; how blessed it would be for Amora to come to her senses at last and actually assist in defeating those who sought to destroy the Nine Realms. Another part of him—the prideful part—wanted to be right. He'd never trusted her, with all her charms and magic. Her continued duplicity would have been so validating.

As before, Eirlys walked at his side—out of habit, he supposed. But neither of them ever breached the two-yard distance between them. She glanced at him every so often, fiddling with the ring on her right hand. He could practically hear the words on the tip of her tongue.

Casting her a sidelong look, he waited for her to break this silence barring them from one another. Even then, she would not speak. Given the remarks they'd previously exchanged, he shouldn't have expected her to. "Are you going to fidget for the rest of this venture?" he said. "I would prefer that you put us both out of our miseries and simply speak."

With a sigh, she dropped her gaze to her right hand. "You never told me about the ring."

In response, he scowled. "There wasn't exactly an opportune moment to mention it during your wedding _to another man_."

This time, she glared at him outright. "You were wrong," she snapped. "Speaking clearly was not the preferable option."

When she drifted further back into their company, making no effort to speak again, he felt his heart dip. For the second time in a single day, he regretted his words.

Steeping in an uncomfortable silence, they travelled deeper into the world. The air grew thicker, the temperature rising. Though the cold and the snow atop the mountain hadn't bothered Loki in the slightest, the sweltering heat made him break a sweat. The rest of their group fared no better. They strained to continue onwards, panting, but, to their credit, no one uttered a word of complaint.

Agonizing minutes passed until they came upon a flicker of green light, the brightness stinging his eyes. Loki eased to a stop, lifting the orb in his hand to shine more light before them. Although the irritating green light continued to cast dancing shadows on the walls, it did not shift or grow any nearer.

Loki said nothing to the others as he marched further into the tunnel, gaze flitting over the lanterns lining the walls. Each of them brimmed with green fire—magical fire—floating inside crystal containers built to carry oil and flame. There was no question as to who had lit them.

"Amora passed this way," Hogun said, pacing to the head of the group. "She left a trail to follow."

Everyone followed his line of sight. The tunnel split into three from here, all paved with cobblestones that would have allowed carts to be pushed and pulled through. It had to have been near a millennium since anyone worked in these tunnels, for the mines below had been picked clean. The lanterns in the leftmost tunnel contained more green fire, their light eventually leading and disappearing around a corner.

No discussion needed to be made. They pursued the lights further and further until, after a half-mile, the string of lit lanterns ended. The tunnel, though deprived of the green light, bathed in the faint glimmer of normal firelight a short distance ahead.

"Should we keep going?" Fandral asked.

"That would be unwise. It took you long enough to arrive."

Many among them started at the addition of another voice, but Loki merely turned to face Amora, feigning a pleasant smile. "Did it ever occur to you that we might have gotten here sooner had you teleported us?"

Sidling through their company, Amora beamed at him. Loki, however, glowered in return, reaching for the magic-binding cuff in his belt pouch with a cautious hand. It would not do well to strike just yet. He would have to wait for the opportune moment to catch her by surprise.

She stopped right beside Thor, her smile widening as she surveyed him from head to toe. He bristled at her attentions. "Oh, but it was just such a delight making you sweat," she said, eyes glinting. "I think perhaps it was well worth the wait."

Sif rolled her eyes. Of all among them, she would've been the only one who had even less patience with Amora than Loki did. "Please, spare us whatever nonsense you seem to consider as wit," she huffed. "Would you have us slay your dragon, or should I begin our trek back to the surface?"

Gracing her with a sharp glare, Amora motioned ahead. "Fine. Let us begin." Hips swaying, she passed between Loki and Eirlys, not bothering to spare either of them a glance. "This way now. But keep quiet—I do hope you are all capable of holding your tongues for at least several minutes."

Loki scoffed. "The same could be asked of you."

She deigned not to respond, her steps never faltering in the slightest. Despite the dubious looks those in their company shared, they trailed in her wake, venturing just a little further into the underground passage. As they walked, the firelight grew brighter, though it continued to flicker and waver. In moments, they reached a cavern, the size of which rivalled that of the Asgardian throne room. They stood atop an outcropping, one that sloped to their right, leading into the quarry below. And in that quarry, dozens upon dozens of Chitauri meandered about, illuminated by an endless number of torches.

"They have been searching the tunnels for days," Amora said, nodding towards the far end of the quarry. There were at least fifteen tunnels stemming from the quarry alone. It was not difficult to imagine that those tunnels branched off into even more. "I suspect they have a general idea of where the dragon lies, yet they are forced to see where each tunnel takes them. It could be days before they find the right one."

"Or hours, if we are met with misfortune," Fandral remarked.

"That is why we are here to stop them, my dear Fandral." Amora nudged his chin with her knuckle, garnering a scowl from him before she inched towards the narrow slope that would take them into the quarry. "However, I do fear they may carry weapons capable of killing a dragon—weapons to match the strength of Drekisbane. They may be foolish, but they are certainly not that foolish."

Loki stood beside her, frowning. "Of course. Whatever arsenal Thanos might have left behind would have been inherited by the Other."

His eyes scanned the Chitauri below before finally settling on a familiar dark-hooded figure. There he was. _The Other_. He was speaking to a small group of Chitauri, pointing rather emphatically at a sheet of parchment—a map of the tunnels, Loki surmised.

"But their weapons could not be anything so powerful as the sceptre," Thor said. "The Mad Titan would not have withheld their use otherwise." Brow cinched, he tilted his head. "Perhaps the Chitauri hope to overwhelm the dragon with sheer numbers."

Amora nodded towards the quarry. "It matters little. We must dispatch them now, else we risk letting them get in our way."

The very moment she made to descend, Loki withdrew the magic-binding cuff from his belt pouch and he seized the opportunity to strike. Though he may have been swift, he was not swift enough. As he brandished the device, he employed an illusion to hide his movements, but the ache radiating in his chest seemed to weaken the veil. Others may have been fooled by the feeble effort. Amora was not.

With the cuff mere inches from her wrist, she seemed to perceive it quickly enough, rapid instincts outmatching even that of Loki. In the blink of an eye, she grabbed Loki's wrist with her opposite hand, well-manicured nails biting into his skin. "How predictable," she sneered. "You turn on me now, just when we are within reach of what I want most."

Faster than she could react, he used his free hand to withdraw a dagger and hold it to her throat. He thought he heard Eirlys emit a sound of protest, but he disregarded it. "You have already turned on us, of that I have no doubt," he shot back, digging the blade just a touch deeper. A small rivulet of blood coated the steel; even then, Amora did not flinch. "Consider the favour returned."

"Loki, put the knife down." With a placating hand outstretched towards Loki, Thor levelled his gaze with that of Amora. "We can still fulfill our bargain, regardless of what Loki says."

Jaw clenched, Loki shot his brother a sharp glare, one that Thor willfully turned a blind eye to. He supposed he should not have been surprised. Thor was never in the habit of heeding him, even when he was so obviously right.

Her eyes narrowed, flashing red in the firelight. "And how can I have any guarantee that you will help me? That you won't try this again?"

Thor loosed a heavy breath and let his hand fall. "You have our word."

Lip curling, she tightened her hold on Loki, knuckles turning white. "Your word is not good enough."

A bright green flash filled his vision, then Loki and Amora were no longer standing atop the outcropping.

They stood now in the midst of the Chitauri.

The creatures screeched at the sight of them, rushing to strike in a frenzy. The instant Amora released his wrist, he stabbed the first Chitauri to reach him, his blade slicing through the jugular. Amora took advantage of the momentary distraction and teleported away from him, to the other end of the quarry.

Loki cursed her under his breath but made no effort to pursue her. Instead, he entered into conflict with the Chitauri, shoving the metal cuff into his belt pouch and drawing the spear from the sheath on his back. His initial measure was to cast illusions of himself, each one of them flickering to life in the blink of an eye. For the most part, the spell succeeded. All the same, a searing pain in his chest prevented him from wielding more magic than he wished. At full strength, he could have had twenty copies darting about the chamber, befuddling the simpleminded Chitauri with ease. At best, there were six.

Even with such limitations, the illusions provided some freedom to move. He dodged and weaved through the Chitauri, their wild and unfocussed attacks not even worth deflecting. Instead, he made his way across the quarry, seeking out the Other. The blue-skinned lackey stood to the side, unmoving, save for the swivel of his head. _He is looking for me_ , Loki realized. _He wants to face me himself._

With long strides, Loki made his way towards the Other. He was mere yards from him before the Other streaked across the quarry in an attempt to engage one of Loki's duplicates. Grinding his teeth, Loki set their confrontation aside and stalked towards the slope that ascended to the outcropping. When one of the Chitauri dared to step into his path, he responded by sinking his dagger into the creature's throat before tossing him aside. He did not watch where he threw the corpse, but, from the corner of his eye, he saw it tangle in a pulley rope that dropped into a mineshaft.

Thor, Eirlys, and the others of their group came skidding down the slope just as he approached. Here, at the edge, they surveyed the battle before them. Loki's illusions were dwindling, with only three remaining. Amora, however, had not slowed since the mayhem began. She teleported through the crowd, killing Chitauri after Chitauri, wielding little more than her magic and a small blade.

Beside him, Fandral shook his head. "We should have been glad to have her on our side."

Loki gave him a derisive look. "She's on no one's side but her own."

Unsheathing his silver foil, Fandral scoffed at him. "You say that like you're any different."

In spite of the discomfiting prickle cavorting across the nape of his neck, Loki managed to glower at him before the Chitauri met them in battle at last.

The first Chitauri to reach them received a dagger in the heart. Loki forewent retrieving his blade, instead opting to wield his spear with both hands. Each jab was precise, striking flesh and blood, finding all the weak spots in the armour with which he'd become familiarized in the days prior to his failed invasion of Midgard. As he skewered one Chitauri and tossed the creature into another, he idly wondered if Thanos had forces at his disposal aside from these. Loki and his fellow 'thralls' hadn't been privy to such information.

The thought perished when a huge blast tore through the quarry, separating a sizeable chunk of stone from the wall. Whirling about, he spotted the Other brandishing a weapon not unlike that which Nalak's Dark Elves wielded in Asgard decades ago. Both would have been provided by Thanos. And both required a significant amount of time to restore power.

The Asgardian party began to spread out more than was sensible, but the clangour was far too loud for Loki to express the issue to any of them. He couldn't even hear Thor's voice—Thor who stood a mere yard from him and had a voice that could be heard across packed banquet halls.

Even if they could not communicate, they fought side by side, utterly tearing through the Chitauri. These creatures were weaker than the Dark Elves, and he'd had little trouble killing them in the past. It felt so simple, laying waste to the Chitauri. But not the Other. He moved fast, a mere blur as he sped through the chamber, darting from Hogun to Loki's illusions and back again.

Once Loki felled his tenth Chitauri, a strange lull washed over both him and Thor while the rest of their company waged on. The pair, working together, had dispatched the enemy with greater ease. Of course, such successes did not go unnoticed by their adversaries either.

From one of the darkened tunnels, another wave of Chitauri spilled into the quarry, aiming straight for them. Spear poised for another attack, Loki sighed. "How wonderful. More Chitauri. And here I thought we all but wiped them from the Cosmos."

Thor grinned and reared Mjolnir back. "We may be on the verge of doing so just now."

The notion garnered a smile from Loki.

Together, they slaughtered the Chitauri, the pawns' ineffectiveness becoming more apparent by the second. Loki ran one through and struck a second with shaft of his spear, even as the first remained impaled on the spearhead. He had to kick the corpse from his weapon when another made to encroach from his left.

Although he surely would have retaliated in time, Mjolnir soared into the Chitauri's head with a resounding _crack_ before returning to Thor's waiting hand. Through the the disorder, they managed to exchange a nod. _The sons of Odin_ —Brokk referred to them as such mere hours ago. He tried not to resent the dwarf prince for it.

As the number of Chitauri surrounding them grew, Loki ventured another spell. Unlike before, his magic saw fit to fail him entirely. Worse still, it saw fit to act against him. In an instant, it felt as though his chest was set aflame, the breath in his lungs burning away. He clutched his sternum, buckling in on himself. Even when he desisted from casting the spell, the ache lingered, pain slowing his reaction time more than he anticipated. The brief hindrance kept him from noticing the blast streaking towards him.

Upon its approach, the bright red filled his sight, the threat of death a heartbeat away.

In the blink of an eye, Eirlys leapt in front of him, metal shield over her head as she cast a bright blue barrier. The blast exploded in multicolour, her oddly misshapen barrier holding against the assault. It was the first magic shield he'd seen her produce in a very long time.

Eyes wide, she let her barrier dissipate and inclined her head to gaze upon him over her shoulder. "I wasn't certain that would work."

His brow arched. "I'm just glad that it did."

In his peripheral vision, he saw another burst coming their way. With the ache in his chest passed, he did not hesitate to shove her aside before stumbling backwards himself. The blast tore through the air, right where they'd been standing. The enemy took advantage of the division between Loki and Eirlys, swarming to keep them apart.

The Chitauri's numbers swelled, and with every new addition to the battle, the pile of corpses continued to grow. Even as Loki contended with Chitauri after Chitauri, he cast a glimpse towards Eirlys every so often. They continued to be separated further, a sea of Chitauri—dead and alive—obstructing them from one another. The urge to aid her blared in the back of his mind, but the endless stream of Chitauri proved too much of an obstacle. _Perhaps they are not so ineffective in infinite numbers_. His only solace was that Sif fought her way to Eirlys' side, wielding Drekisbane with eager precision.

Across the quarry, the glaring sheen of red caught his regard. Turning, he saw the Other taking confident aim at him, now that all his illusions had faded. Even so, the staff the Other carried fired too slow, giving Loki warning enough to dodge the attack. His was a siege weapon made to rend walls and doors asunder. To Loki, it was little more than a clumsy threat.

He pushed through the throng, knocking aside a Chitauri that practically fell onto Fandral's sword. The Other maintained his gaze on Loki, waiting for his approach, never lowering the siege staff despite the many moments it would require to fire again. Another Chitauri ran at Loki from the right; Hogun simply outstretched his spiked mace to kill the creature.

With mere yards between them, Loki stopped before the Other, facing him for the first time since their last encounter in the Red Skull's mountain complex.

The Other grimaced, baring his bloody red teeth. "I warned Thanos that you would bring more trouble than what you were worth. Your life should have ended the very instant you turned on us, but in his greed, he sought to give unto you a pain unknown to anyone before."

The reminder sent a flash of pain flowing through the scars on Loki's back. Eyes narrowed, Loki refused to acknowledge the damage he'd suffered. "Ah yes, Thanos, the deluded maniac who thought he could win the love of Death herself—perhaps more a fool than a maniac, but there's no denying that he was both," he remarked. The Other frowned at the insult to his master. "It begs the question... does that make you even more deranged for following such a lunatic? Going so far as to restore him to life with little provocation. Or maybe you're just an imbecile who craves being told what to do."

Growling, the Other raised his staff, Loki his target. But something made the servant pause. "You may question our sanity, but we do have one advantage: we do not have your sentiment. Your weakness. You who have formed such easily discernible attachments."

Loki felt his chest constrict. Even in the face of his immediate comprehension, he still reacted too late. The Other turned his staff on Eirlys and Sif, launching a bright red blast before Loki could stop him. A flare of blue filled the quarry as Eirlys attempted another barrier spell, her magical shield appearing ahead of the blast just in time. Nevertheless, it was not enough.

The weapon had not been aimed precisely at Eirlys and Sif. It had been directed towards the stone at their feet. The ground beneath them exploded, sending the pair flying backwards. They hit the wall of the quarry, right above one of the mineshafts, rocks surging all around.

Then they began to fall.

His breath all but ceased as he watched, absurdly helpless. The impact they made against the wall knocked boulders and dust loose. Once the two of them tumbled into the mineshaft, the massive stones trailed behind, sealing the passage in their wake.

A furious roar ripped through Loki's throat. He made a mad dash for the Other, flinging aside any Chitauri that dared stand in his way. Brandishing his spear, he struck at the Other's chest the moment he reached him. But the Other slid to the right, moving with a speed he could not match, the spearpoint missing him by a hairsbreadth. Loki jabbed and swung, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, overwhelming everything else.

The Other swung his staff, clipping Loki in the side. Stumbling a ways, Loki pressed a hand to his ribs— _bruised now, if not worse_. And yet he pushed past the pain, stabbing, swinging, employing every twist and turn he could to best the Other.

In response, the Other tried to increase the distance between them. He might have been quick, but it became clear that he had little experience in the way of combat. The staff was the only real weapon he had at his disposal, and Loki would not allow him to use it again.

At once, they both swung their respective weapons and met with a parry. Driven by rage and adrenaline, Loki threw the Other backwards, forcing him to the ground. Spear in hand, he pointed the sharp end downwards. When he was on the verge of running his opponent through, the Other scrabbled to his feet and... started to run.

If it hadn't been for the fury running through Loki's veins, he might have laughed in mockery.

Instead, he took aim and let his spear fly. His target moved at greater speeds than most, but Loki did not fail to account for that. In the span of a breath, the spear struck its mark, and the Other collapsed—face first—to the cold stone floor.

That the battle around him had died down only entered Loki's awareness after the Other lay incapacitated on the ground. It made it all the more easy to stride across the quarry to stand above the Other. Gripping the shaft tightly, Loki wrenched the spear from his back and kicked him over.

The Other's blindfold had shifted, revealing one yellow eye. Whether or not the Other was able to see, Loki did not care. He brought his spear down once more, piercing his heart. The spearpoint sliced through metal and flesh, blood spilling free, and the Other was dead once and for all, free to join his master in whatever afterlife had been reserved for them.

Loki withdrew his spear with a satisfying _squelch_ before turning his attention towards the mineshaft—rather, the mineshaft now buried beneath what could have been a tonne of rocks and silt. He hadn't any idea how deep into the world the mineshaft plunged. Was it a fall they could have survived?

Ignoring the blood on his hands, he marched towards the heap, passing by the few Chitauri remaining; they were nothing Fandral couldn't handle. Loki knelt beside the mound of stone, scanning for strong and weak points. There had to have been a way to open the passage without disturbing the entire pile, and he was determined to find it. With tentative fingers, he reached out to the nearest stone. Perhaps by moving one, he could prop—

"Loki, don't!" Thor grabbed his shoulder and practically dragged him backwards. "It could collapse and kill them."

A furious glare was all that was needed to make Thor let him go. "Do you think I'm not aware of that risk?" Loki snapped. "Every second we waste here means another in which they could be swarmed by Chituari—or worse, they could encounter the dragon by their lonesome. This would be the quickest option if you would simply shut your mouth and help me."

Thor's whole frame seemed to slump, his eyes glistening in the firelight. Loki wanted to hate that look of utter _sympathy_ that his brother bestowed upon him, but he was much too preoccupied with the incessant ache in his chest. That feeling, on the other hand, was something he could easily detest.

"There may be another way." They both looked round to see Hogun approach with the Other's map in hand. "There are tunnels that lead below. We can find them."

Loki climbed to his feet and all but snatched the parchment from his hands. It would require a significant amount of time to search the tunnels. Time they did not have. He glanced around the quarry, discerning in an instant that Amora was nowhere to be found. That she was gone did not surprise him in the slightest. She would have taken the first opportunity to escape in all the confusion.

Fists clenching around the parchment, he shot Thor a look. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd simply helped me capture Amora in the first place."

In return, Thor frowned. "Do not place the blame on me. You could not catch her unawares to begin with. There was nothing I could have done that she could not have easily evaded."

"It does not matter now," Hogun said, stepping between the two brothers in a clear attempt to diffuse the situation. "We must find Sif and Eirlys before Amora does."

Letting out a heavy breath, Loki held the map aloft. While he feared that they would not be able to reach them ahead of Amora, he was certainly not going to give up. "Then it appears we have no other choice."

After some brief examination, Loki determined the path ahead. Not bothering to spare a word for his companions, he started down one tunnel, and they trailed in his wake in equivalent silence. He lit an orb in his hand, casting turquoise light on the walls surrounding them, and marched forth with purpose.

Though his expression remained passive, his step sure and steadfast, he was desperately trying to divest himself of the dread twisting in his heart.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The chapter of this title is a reference to the song _A Rush of Blood to the Head_ by Coldplay.

If you have a moment, please leave a review.

Happy holidays, everyone!


	13. Dragonslayer

**Author's Note:** As always, a huge thanks to all my readers!

Happy new year to everyone. I thought I'd ring in the new year with a new chapter.

* * *

 **THIRTEEN**

* * *

 _dragonslayer_

* * *

The first sensations to enter my awareness were the sharp pounding on the back of my head and the current of air tugging at me, lashing my skin. Slow, agonizing seconds eluded me before I opened my eyes only to blink in the dark. I remembered hitting my head on the stone wall at the edge of the quarry. Now I was falling. Falling into what?

 _The mineshaft_.

My heart nearly stopped as my mind gradually comprehended the situation. Sif... Sif and I had fallen down the mineshaft, and it was pitch-black. I could not see a single thing.

I shouted Sif's name, asking where she was, but my voice was lost to the endless screech of air whipping past my ears. If Sif heard me at all, I could not tell.

It mattered little by this point. Despite all her strength and skill, I did not think Sif could offer much assistance. Wherever we were falling—whatever awaited us at the bottom, whether it be rock or dirt or water—we would die from the impact.

Throat constricting, I threw out my hand and cast my magic, praying that I could slow our fall. Pain lanced through my chest at the mere attempt. Even so, I generated a flicker of blue light, the sudden brightness blinding for but a moment. Yet it was enough for me to see that Sif was somewhere to my left.

Our fall continued, and the terror in my heart swelled; I doubted we had much mineshaft left. Gritting my teeth, I cast another spell, encasing us both in a barrier. The warmth of my magic enveloped us both, a thin sheen. Still, my magic failed, too weak to endure.

Panic shot through me. I'd caught a glimpse of the end of the shaft, the bottom fast approaching. Sif must have too. This time, I could perceive her voice, yelling at me, although I could not distinguish her words.

We were going to die in the next few seconds if I couldn't save us.

I had to do it now.

 _NOW!_

With a deep breath—as deep as I could manage through the gale—I concentrated all of my power, every last vestige of the magic I could reach from within. Outstretching my hand, I cast a barrier again, encompassing the both of us. An anguished cry sprang from my lips when I pulled as hard and as gently as I could all at once.

Our fall slowed, and in the next moment, my magic gave out.

We hit _water_ with force enough for it to sting. The cold sent a shock through me, seizing my limbs and stealing my breath. I felt myself floating, fading, exhaustion overwhelming me. My armour weighed me down and dragged me to the bottom of a basin. Everything began to darken, shadows creeping upon my vision until I drifted away, consumed by the blank void.

Consciousness abandoned me, leaving me to founder in my own watery grave.

But then, through the emptiness, I felt an abrupt tug on my arm. One heartbeat passed. Followed by another. A second later, my head broke the surface of the water, and I was exposed to air, thick and warm and sulphuric in smell, but air nonetheless. My attempts to breathe were met with fitful coughing as I choked on the water, the burn of it setting my lungs afire despite its chill. I hadn't noticed I was moving until my back met the rock, and it took several broken moments before I realized that Sif had pulled me onto what served as the basin's shore.

Neither of us uttered a word for a time. We simply breathed in and out, our breaths loud in the stark silence. I shivered, and the urge to curl on my side was strong, but I could not seem to move. Nor could I summon the might to ward the cold away. We did nothing but lay there and wait for our wits and our strength to return.

Eventually, Sif eased herself upright and glanced my way. "Are you all right, Eirlys?"

I inhaled deeply, struggling to catch my breath before I could reply. "Yes. We're alive."

Sif chuckled and began climbing to her feet. At that moment, I blinked, struck with the sudden realization that I could actually see down here at the bottom of a very long mineshaft. The light was faint, but it was enough. Glancing about, I sought the source of the gleam and spotted the glowing rocks embedded in the walls. They were quite unlike any crystal I'd seen in the past. These were thick and opaque, smouldering like molten lava.

"I have heard of these," Sif said, nodding towards the nearest glowing rock. "They're called firestones—rocks scorched by dragon fire. They continue to glow even long after they've been struck." Her expression darkened when she turned back to find my gaze. "Dragons use them to light their surroundings."

My stomach roiled. That there were firestones all around us meant that the dragon had been here. However, if were were fortunate, then the dragon had already moved on. Better the dragon be more difficult to find than having the creature stumble upon us when we were least suspecting and unprepared.

It required another minute or two for me to stagger to my feet, my sodden armour and cloth threatening to pull me back down. Through the gloom, I peered down at myself to take stock. For the most part, I was unharmed, save for the small cut on my upper arm. During the fall, we both seemed to have lost hold of our weapons. They could only have sunk to the bottom of the basin. Likely having thought the same, Sif stood at the edge, scanning the waters for any sign of our equipment to no avail.

Pivoting on my heel, steady as could be, I withdrew a dagger from my boot and strode to the nearest firestone to chip off several large chunks. Sif stepped back as I returned and tossed them into the basin, setting the water alight in a deep red lustre. I grimaced at the sight of a dead Chitauri floating in the water, somewhere near the brim. Disregarding the corpse as best I could, I located our weapons and shields at the floor of the basin, closer to the middle.

We stilled for a moment, frowning down at the water. Then I lifted my head to peer over at Sif, chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. "You were always the better swimmer of the two of us."

She cast me a half-hearted glare. "Wait here."

Without bothering to remove her heavy armour, she dove into the water, cutting straight through to the floor. I could see only the bare outline of her as she collected our things and pushed from the bottom to streak back to the surface. Her gasp echoed in the cavern, and she returned to shore, tossing our gear onto the rock. When she neared, I extended my hand, which she took with a grateful smile.

Back to back, we reequipped ourselves, constantly wary of our surroundings. My eyes darted about, straining against the dark, uncertainty gripping my chest. Once I stood ready, I turned to look down the tunnel that led away from the basin, hand on my scabbard. From here, it was our only course of action. The walls were well lit with firestones growing brighter farther onwards, which made me wonder if it would lead us to the dragon purportedly living in the depths of Bàhn Modan.

"Sif, I don't like this at all," I murmured, adjusting my shield over my bracer. The weight of the metal pressed the crystal hidden under my glove into my skin, but I relished the sting. "I... I knew fighting a dragon would not be an easy feat. But I did not think we would have to undertake such a task by our lonesome. Norns, why did I ever insist on agreeing to... to _this_?"

Her brow dropped, though she did not speak at first. After a time, she sauntered forwards to stand by the firestones, the radiance casting a deathly red sheen on the side of her face. "Earlier today, when you told us of the bargain Amora proposed, I almost dissented from the idea. Even so, I have come to believe it was the only action we could have taken," she said. "We have struggled greatly these past few days. Do not give in to regret. We may yet succeed."

The weight dragging down on my shoulders lightened a little. Her confidence had always seemed to be contagious, even in the darkest of times. "Then what do you suppose we shall do?" I moved to join her and gestured down the tunnel. "I fear what we may encounter should we continue on this path, but we cannot stay here."

Sif heaved a sigh and nodded. "We must either find a place to hide or find a way out. The dragon is surely nearby—the glow of these firestones is much too bright for my comfort." I wanted to ask how she knew so much, but it occurred to me that she must have read quite a lot about dragons and those who had slain them; Skjoldis the Dragonslayer was an idol of sorts. "No matter our choice, we cannot face such a beast on our own, despite how much I wish we could."

"Then let us proceed with extreme caution," I said, gripping the hilt of my sword. "I suggest we find an exit. Hiding from a dragon does not sound much like a feasible notion."

She loosed a breath of laughter at that.

Together, we pressed onwards, never making sudden movements, our steps muted on the rough stone beneath the soles of our boots.

We followed the tunnel, which curved right, the walls still marked with fiery red stones illuminating our path. The tunnels began to widen the further we walked—wide enough, perhaps, to allow the passage of a dragon. We passed through several caverns, each stretching as high as the grand entrance of the Asgardian palace. All were empty, with nary a sign that the dwarves had ever been here.

"Could it be possible the dwarves sealed all the other entrances into this mine?" I said. "What if there were no other openings aside from mineshaft through which we came? Perhaps that was why the Chitauri could not find the dragon."

"I cannot imagine the dwarves would seal the tunnels shut. They would have had no reason," Sif replied as we stepped into another cavern, this one larger than those preceding it. The warm chamber was darker, the few firestones embedded in the walls casting long shadows. "Though perhaps it would have been wise, considering a dragon has taken up residence down here. There must be a way the dragon travels to and from."

" _You would not be wrong_."

The two of us froze at the voice. I looked towards the shadowed parts over the cavern, eyes wide, cold fear dancing along the back of my neck. It was a voice—a female voice—that I did not recognize. It boomed in my chest, rattling me from head to toe. Never had I heard a voice so sonorous. Not even Heimdall's voice could compare, nor that of Thanos.

" _Neither of you will be escaping these tunnels_ ," the voice uttered, sounding closer now than it had before. At the sight of two flames hovering on high, we backed away, though the effectiveness of such a measure was, in all likelihood, non-existent. " _I listened to those creatures scurrying above for days, seeking me out. So eager I was to slay them when they found me—I would have fed for months. But instead I have received you. At the least, I will have a bit of fun._ "

From the darkness before us, she came stomping into view. The dragon herself.

Hakurei.

My mouth must have fallen open at the sight of her, for she laughed, the very sound making my heart drop straight into my stomach. She stood on four legs, the span from shoulder to claw over half a dozen yards. Her horns curved forwards, long and sharp, and I had no doubt they were proficient at goring her prey. And yet they seemed a lesser threat compared to her sword-like teeth and massive claws. Not to mention the fire. The fire spewed by Surtur's demons may have been terrible, but it would never match that of a dragon.

"You did not expect that I could speak," Hakurei thundered, arching her scaly spine to tower over us even further. "Doubtless, you must have expected I could breathe flame."

With a scream caught in my throat, I dove to the right while Sif dove to the left. The stream of fire narrowly missed us both, the heat of it piercing despite never having touched my skin. As the flames continued to pour from her mouth, I scrambled to the nearest boulder for shelter, tripping over a firestone on my way there.

Again, the dragon mocked us with her amusement. "I can still smell your fear, as much as you have tried to temper it in your quest to slay me. What is it you're after—you and those scuttling creatures you battled above?" She stalked forwards, her every step rumbling in the cavern. "Are you here for my scales? Or is it my heart you want for your dark spells?"

A stab of guilt struck my chest. Was this all worth fulfilling Amora's whims? I did not think so. But that did not change our need for the Soul Stone. I was willing to do much for it, and slaying a dragon was not something I would object to—we didn't have a choice. Our lives depended upon it. And yet I never would have forgiven myself if Sif met her end here, in this dark cavern, at the behest of Amora's dark intentions.

Through the shadows, I shared a look with Sif. I began to rise up with the thought of joining her, but she shook her head. Even if I'd dared to attempt the crossing, it would not have made a difference.

In the darkness, I had not seen the dragon's tail heading my way.

It cracked against the boulder I'd been hiding behind, smashing through the stone. Biting back a cry, I ducked, hands over my head as dust and rock exploded around me. The whip of the dragon's spiked tail reminded me of a jorgandr. Except she was larger and more intelligent and breathed fire.

 _By the Norns, why did I ever think we could best a dragon?_

The question clung to the back of my mind as I launched myself from the shadows and rolled further along the ground. Rising up on one knee, I stared up at Hakurei. She loomed over me, her purple scales shining in the ominous firestone light. In the span of a heartbeat, I withdrew Silvertongue and scrutinized the dragon for weak points. I could not imagine stabbing through the scales, even with a sword such as mine. The flaming maw was not an option. The eyes, however...

I shifted on my heel and leapt to the left a mere moment before a streak of fire blasted through the spot I'd been standing. Steady on my feet, I circled the dragon, Sif appearing before me, running to keep abreast of Hakurei's left flank. Hakurei turned to stalk me, her movements awkward in the confining space. Her maw opened, bearing down on me, flames churning in the back of her throat. I stopped, awash with relief, when Sif slashed the dragon's rear left leg.

Hakurei roared, thrashing about to seek the cause of the damage, minor as it was. The moment she spotted Sif, she charged at her, jaw snapping. Heart wedged in my throat, I darted forwards to strike her underbelly in the hopes of drawing her away from Sif. My blade did little more than crack a single scale, if at all. Just the same, I succeeded in distracting the dragon, even if it meant infuriating her further. She reared back on her hind legs and loosed a cascade of flame, the fire rolling across the ground, covering the area around her.

In my scramble to evade the blaze, my right shoulder caught fire, pain lancing down my arm. Cloth and skin sizzled and burned. Pain overwhelmed my every one of my senses, rousing a strange sickness in the pit of my stomach. I tore the cloak from my shoulders and staggered into a shallow pool, tumbling into the water to kill the heat digging through my armour. Some of the skin on my upper arm was blistered and red, the sight of which nearly had me retching. I had to force myself to look away and push past the pain.

After what felt like too many seconds, I managed to ease myself to my knees. Beyond the hulking figure of the dragon, whose massive wings spread as far as the cavern would allow, I saw Sif strike Hakurei in the face, the legendary Drekisbane cutting through scale to leave a bloody mark on the dragon's muzzle. It was a small victory, but it was one that captured Hakurei's attention fully.

Upon ducking another fire blast, Sif turned on her heel and darted into the nearest tunnel. Her flight proved rather effective, considering her smaller size and greater speed. Intent on her quarry, the dragon followed, slow and lumbering, albeit threatening as ever.

Knelt in the water still, I clutched onto my arm, waiting for the agony to subside. My mind buzzed with pain and panic. I needed to help Sif. With only the two of us, we had little chance of defeating the dragon. Alone, Sif had even less of a chance. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, I gripped Silvertongue and slid one foot forward in my endeavour to rise.

Right then, the gleam of silver seized my attention.

Instinct drove me to hoist my sword and block what appeared to be Asgardian steel. I lifted my gaze, eyes widening, breath escaping me.

The blade belonged to Amora.

I shook my head at her, my arms shaking to stave off her attack. "Amora, what—?"

She reared her blade back and made to swing once more. Pulse thrashing in my ears, I threw myself to the ground and rolled away from her, through the water. When I looked up at her, questions on the tip of my tongue, she swiped at me, her curved blade missing my skin by mere inches.

I diverted another jab and parried her. Searing pain shot along my shoulder and arm while I tried to meet her gaze in the midst of the shadows. "Why are you doing this? We're trying to help you!"

A bright green flash blinded me. Unseeing, I ducked and brought up my shield. Fortune seemed to be on my side, for I blocked her strike just as she materialized before me. Despite my present perseverance, I knew this was not a battle I could win. Luck could only come to my rescue so often. Amora was too fast—by the Norns, she was a _teleporter_ ; 'fast' did not seem a strong enough descriptor. It was unlikely I would have been able to keep pace with her even if I hadn't been injured.

She flickered from my left to my right and back again. No amount of magic or skill with a sword could hinder her. I tried to impede her attacks, wielding another haphazard barrier. The use of magic stirred a terrible ache inside me, and my barriers were shamefully weak—as weak as they'd been when I first learned how to use them. I thought of Frigga then. And of Loki. They'd both taught me so much. Now that all seemed to have gone to waste.

As I blocked a strike to my left with my metal shield, she appeared on my right before I realized it. She planted a boot in my midsection, making me double over. In the next instant, she was behind me, kicking the backs of my legs to force me to my knees. Fingers entangling in my hair, she yanked my head back to press her blade to my throat.

My free hand flew to her wrist, desperate to draw her blade away, but she would not budge. Instead, she blinked down at me, her eyes flaring an unusual red. Like flame. Like the eyes of Surtur. A chill washed over me. "Surtur." I narrowed my eyes, glaring up at her. Loki had been right. Something was amiss about Amora, and I should have listened to him. "You fool. What have you done?"

Her brow furrowed, the pressure of the blade against my throat lessening. For a moment, I thought it another trick, although I could not determine why she would bother to employ one while I remained at her mercy. "I'm not in control," she said. "My will is not my own."

I clenched my hand tighter around her wrist until I felt it quake. "What did you do?"

"I let Surtur in." Her words lacked the confidence I was accustomed to hearing. She actually sounded... afraid. "The Twilight Sword... a sliver of it has been embedded in my heart. My will is not my own. And it becomes less so as time passes. It will grow, spread, entwining with every cell of my being until he takes complete control."

My heart jolted. As Loki suspected, she had made a deal with Surtur. But it seemed to me their intentions were not entirely aligned. "How did this happen?"

Though her blade shook, hovering just a hair above my skin, she fought to restrain herself. "I allowed it. I sought Surtur in the hopes of surviving the coming Ragnarök. He promised me power. He promised me protection. I did not expect to be bound to his will as Malekith and his Dark Elves have."

In spite of the immediate danger to my throat, I managed to lift a brow. "Malekith? But he raised Surtur from the depths of Midgard."

"Surtur controls us to prevent anyone from turning on him. He is more clever than Thanos in that respect." She gave a wry smile, one much more suited to her features than the utter terror that gleamed in her eyes. "The Demon King does not want dissenting voices amongst his minions. They are all part of his collective—his hive mind."

Gaze darting towards the tunnel into which Sif fled, Amora unleashed a strange, hysterical laugh that sounded disconcertingly unlike her. "The dragon was meant to kill you all. Surtur believes he has the Soul Stone, hidden away some place where his enemies cannot use it against him. This was his scheme. He only wants you dead." Her sharp eyes returned to me. "I cannot tolerate this control he has over me. This fire will consume me until there is nothing left. My mind will be gone. But you... Find the stone. Kill Malekith."

"You say he believes he has the stone?" I could scarcely breathe. "Then you have taken it back without him knowing. Where are you keeping it?"

"In the place where my sister died," she murmured. "Loki will know where that is."

"Then we might have a chance." My heart lifted for the first time since this nightmare began. "Just let me go. You have to find the strength to let me go." I glanced down at her arm, trying not to nick myself on her blade. "Foolish as you may have been seeking out Surtur, we can still help you."

Amora smirked at the suggestion. "You have all the compassion Loki lacks."

Her hand stopped shaking at that moment. The glimmer of red in her eyes was the only other indication that she was no longer herself.

The blade broke the skin on my throat, but before she could drag it all the way across, a throwing knife came soaring from the darkness to lodge itself in her shoulder. She cried out, the grip on her own blade giving way. It clattered to the ground, and a split-second later, she vanished in a bright flash.

Blinking through the dots frolicking across my vision, I fell forward, hands braced on the rough stone beneath me. The sensation of hands on me, grasping my upper arms, made me jolt. Even in the shadows, it was no challenge to discern Loki's features. The wrinkle in his brow. The shine of his eyes. "Did she harm you?" he said, head dipping to examine the cut on my neck. Jaw clenched, he swore to slaughter Amora himself under his breath.

Quivering in his hold, I lifted a hand to my neck, my fingers coming away with blood. "You can mock me now, for not heeding your warnings."

He did not react at first, his expression merely growing grave. In the stark silence, I remained uncertain if his apparent anger was due to my own folly or that of Amora. Before I could speak again, a subtle shift in the darkness brought my attention to Thor, Hogun, and Fandral whose backs were to us as they monitored the tunnels at the opposite end of the cavern.

Hand sliding along Loki's arm to his shoulder, I pulled myself up straighter. "Amora, she... she's done a terrible thing." He lifted his brow again at the obvious statement, but I pressed on. "She is under Surtur's influence. She sought him out in the hopes of surviving the coming peril, but she received more than she bargained for."

"Of course she did." Loki gave the most derisive breath of laughter. "I am not shocked in the slightest."

"A sliver of the Twilight Sword has been embedded in her heart, so she has said. She has been fighting to regain her own will." I peered up at Thor, Hogun, and Fandral who were listening raptly now, brows furrowed. "She managed to reclaim some control for but a moment. That is why she did not kill me. More importantly, she told me where to find the Soul Stone."

"Assuming that was not also a lie." Loki's expression hardened, the shadows making his features even more pronounced. "Amora is even more witless than I believed if she thought to form an alliance with Surtur. There is no life in acting as his puppet."

"She does what she can to survive," Thor pointed out. "You were no different, allying yourself with the Mad Titan."

Loki frowned. "At least I knew when to stop."

"We can concern ourselves with her later." Glancing around the vast and empty cavern, I felt my chest tighten at the realization that I could not longer hear the dragon at all. I plucked up Silvertongue and cast a brief glance at the remains of my charred cloak, now heaped on the ground. "We must find and help Sif. For all her capabilities, I doubt she can best a dragon by her lonesome."

Fingers ghosting over my neck and upper arm, Loki met my gaze once more, brow quirked. "You want to go after the dragon with your injuries? What an ingenious idea."

"They are minor." It wasn't a complete lie, but it did feel like one. In truth, the pain radiating from my arm made me feel a little faint. Perhaps it was the smell of burnt flesh. And yet, despite the pain and the churn of my stomach, I could not sit idly by and let Sif face a dragon without us.

The gentle touch of Loki's hands left my skin as he narrowed his eyes at me. "Why is it that you keep throwing yourself in harm's way? Your reckless abandon is what got you into this fine predicament in the first place."

I bit the inside of my cheek, keeping myself from rising to anger. "I can manage. Sif is alone somewhere in these caverns with a dragon. She needs my help—all our help."

Loki huffed and shook his head. "And how exactly do you plan on helping? By adding to your repertoire of injuries?"

I was scarcely able to scowl at him before Thor began striding towards the nearest tunnel, the one into which Sif steered the dragon. That had to have been minutes ago. _Could she have survived so long?_ Even as I continued to doubt that one with her skill could contend with a dragon, I wanted to be wrong.

"Arguing about this now would be pointless," Thor said, looking back at us. "Eirlys is right. We must hurry. Sif may need our help."

"Which way has she gone?" Fandral asked, squinting down the tunnels as though he might be able to see her with enough effort.

I shared a look with Loki, and he simply took my hand to yank me to my feet; the time for dispute had long since passed. With a deep breath, I started towards the tunnel. "This way."

The passages ahead branched from ours like roots in the earth, winding about and digging deep. But the path was easy to follow. Scratch marks marred the walls, scored heavily into the stone where the dragon laid her claws. _These impressions are new_ , I thought. Hakurei would only have made them if she were scrambling to follow her prey; she'd been light of foot otherwise, leaving no other scrapes upon the walls in any of the other tunnels we'd passed through.

We scurried through the dark, the occasional firestone lighting our way. No one dared to speak for fear that the dragon could hear us. The element of surprise was our greatest advantage against a dragon. Facing her head on had been worse than battling a jorgandr. She may have been slower and more awkward in these tight spaces, but she breathed flame and had claws to accompany her teeth.

"Thor?"

Our company paused at the familiar voice, and we all peered into the dark to Thor's right. My eyes could not see anything through the gloom, but Thor had no difficulty discerning the source of the voice. "Sif?"

She'd hidden herself inside a crevice, one so well concealed that it appeared as though she emerged from the void when she stepped out of it. To our great fortune, the crevice had been sufficient enough to divert the dragon, for her tracks continued down the tunnel, disappearing around a corner.

Thor approached and laid a hand on her cheek. "Are you harmed?"

She blinked up at him. "I am fine. The dragon moved too slowly to wound me."

"I'm glad." Returning his hand to his side with unusual haste, Thor drew away. "It's no easy task to outwit a dragon."

The ghost of a smile shadowed her features, and she glanced at the rest of us, pausing to nod at me in reassurance. "We must escape these mines," she remarked. "I do not recommend fighting the dragon. At all."

"Good, because we are no longer in the business of helping Amora," Fandral replied.

Brow raised, Sif glanced at me again, her regard shifting to the small cut on my neck. She didn't have to ask. That Amora spilled even a drop of my blood was answer enough for her.

"We can leave through the tunnel that led us to you," Thor told her. "Navigating these mines to get there may prove a challenge, however."

On my right, Loki sighed. "Then I shall take the lead. You never had any sense of direction."

Devoid of any hesitation, he turned back around and strode through the passage from which we'd come. We took the first left, followed by another. With all the twists and turns—in such darkness, no less—I found myself amazed that Loki could recall the path that would guide us from this place.

In little time, we came to a cavern larger than any other in the Vestri Mines. It appeared to be the central cavern, judging by the greater number of tunnels leading from its fringes. One among them must have led back to the quarry in which we'd fought the Chitauri, seeing as Loki did not slow upon entering.

There was, however, one thing in this network of tunnels that could draw him to an abrupt halt. And she was standing down the tunnel connected to the far end of the cavern, her hulking frame blocking the entire width. She ducked low, as if to hide in the shadows, but the firestones refracted light off her scales. I could only assume the tunnel was our way out.

"I can hear your scuttling about these burrows." Hakurei's laugh echoed, loud and painfully clear, throughout the cavern and its many branches. "You cannot hope to hide from me forever."

"Let me guess," Sif murmured. "That is our exit."

Grim-faced, Thor nodded.

I let out a shaky breath. _Of course it had to be the tunnel that serves as our exit_. She would have known that. The dragon hunkered down in the heart of our only escape route, waiting patiently for our inevitable approach. I had an inkling that there truly was no other way out. Hakurei would have made certain of that. If we tried to make our own by blasting a hole in the wall, it would draw her attention one way or another. Either we faced her, or we died down here.

Loki stepped back to crouch behind a cluster of stalagmites, and the rest of us followed suit. He rubbed at his brow, eyes squeezed shut. "This entire venture has been utterly idiotic."

Thor knelt by the wall of the cavern, leaning his shoulder against the smooth stone. "Be that as it may, we still need a way out."

"We must slay the dragon," Hogun said. Each of us looked in his direction, some with eyes wide and brows raised. "It is the only way we can survive."

"My friend, you say that as though attempting to slay a dragon is at all conducive to survival," Fandral quipped. "Can't we all just sneak past the beast and let her be?"

"You say that as though it were possible to sneak past her," Sif retorted. "She will not move from that tunnel so long as we are here, and she will light it afire the moment we step foot in it."

Thor and Sif exchanged a look in the glow of a firestone. After a moment, he nodded towards the dragon. "Then it is time we kill Hakurei at last."

A derisive chuckle sounded from Loki. "Easier stated than accomplished."

I sat back on my haunches and scanned the cavern for something—anything—that could aid us. There were more firestones in this cavern than others. More than the many tunnels we'd passed through. Some were very long, jutting out from the sides, reaching near to the ceiling. My brow furrowed. _A number of large firestones stretch out over the very centre of the cavern_ , I mused.

An idea struck me.

Heart thudding, I looked round at my friends, their tense expressions mirroring one after another. "Do you recall how we killed the jorgandr?" I asked. "Both jorgandrs, for that matter."

Fandral peered round at the members of our group before being the first to respond, "Well, yes, but this is a dragon. A measly jorgandr is nothing in comparison."

The dark look Loki cast him sent a chill through my heart. "I think you underestimate the might of a jorgandr."

"Even so, dropping rocks and stalactites would not be enough to break through a dragon's scales," Sif said. "We would need a weapon forged—oh..." She looked down at Drekisbane, eyes growing wide. "Do you mean to suggest that I jump from a great height to strike the dragon?"

A single nod was my only response.

While Fandral seemed to balk at the suggestion, Thor was far more confident. "You have done it before."

"With the Destroyer, not _a dragon_ ," Fandral hissed. "This is not nearly as simple, surely you must know that."

"Yes, but it would be impossible to strike the dragon from underneath, lest we risk being trampled, eaten, or burned to a crisp." Anchoring herself with Drekisbane, Sif eased herself up to peer over the stalagmites. I followed her line of sight to a nearby firestone that protruded from the wall, large as a skiff and suspended high above. It was ideal for jumping from, so long as someone was able to lure the dragon beneath it. "I can do this."

Aside from Thor and me, everyone else remained skeptical of the plan, their dubious glances plain to see.

And yet, after a brief pause, Loki heaved a sigh. "Then we best hurry and stop wasting time before the dragon takes notice of us."

Our party grouped together, two by two, and scurried round the edge of the cavern. It must have been too dark or the dragon too far afield for her to detect our movements, for she did not move from the depths of her tunnel, claws _clack_ ing against the stone in a show of impatience.

Sif drew us to a stop, her hands braced against the rock wall that towered over us. "Here. I can climb here."

Although I hadn't much experience climbing such a sheer rock face, I could identify handholds: rocks bulging from the wall, right angles cut into the stone, hollows from which the Dwarves mined precious gems and crystals. They would lead her to the firestone directly above, hanging a dozen yards from the ground.

"Are you certain about this, Sif?" Thor asked, hovering by her side.

She smiled wryly at him. "I can't imagine how that would be possible. But it's the best strategy we have." With a nod, she turned to face the wall, searching for the handhold closest to the bottom. When she saw the nearest handhold was out of her reach, she sighed.

"Allow me to help." Thor stepped up behind her and reached out towards her. "If... if you wouldn't mind."

Looking back at him, her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she assented nevertheless. With Thor's assistance, his strong hands gripping her armoured waist, she grasped the ledge and began to climb at last.

As we waited, Loki peered over at me. "So, we are to lure the dragon towards us in the hopes that Sif might be able to leap onto the creature's back and deal a killing blow," he remarked. "You do realize this scheme of yours borders on insane, do you not?"

I managed a small smile. "Well now, I've only learned it from you."

He hesitated for a moment, lips pressed together as if he were trying to suppress a smile of his own. "Yes, but I've had considerable more practice."

Fandral brushed past me, brow quirked. "If you two are finished dallying, may we please beguile a dragon into chasing but not eating us?"

Loki glanced my way, lips parted as if he intended on speaking further. But, without another word, he averted his gaze and followed after Fandral.

Once Sif climbed to the height of the cavern and made her way to the end of the firestone hanging above, she tapped the side with Drekisbane to signal us. Looking upwards to see her crouching at the very edge, I caught her gaze and offered another nod of acknowledgement. That she was so willing to leap from on high to strike a dragon in the back truly did sound insane. But we had been facing some rather insane circumstances of late, so it only seemed fitting.

With Sif in position, Thor was swift to further devise our plan of distraction. We were to spread out and circle around the cavern while Thor lured the dragon beneath Sif. As soon as she struck, we would attack from behind and the sides. The idea was fraught with danger and ridiculous risk, but no one seemed able to offer any better alternatives, not even Loki.

"Well, then, I suppose the question remains," Fandral said. "How does one lure a dragon into a trap? She may seem like quite the beast, but she is no fool."

"There is only one way to lure in creatures with uneven tempers." Loki cast Thor a pointed look, one that made his brother glower in return. "Anger. Anger her, and she will be unable to resist."

If at all possible, Fandral appeared even more doubtful. "You're suggesting we anger a dragon?"

"Is it not our intention to slay the dragon, at any rate?" I remarked. "I think we were bound to anger her at some point or another."

Extending Mjolnir, Thor strode ahead, towards the tunnel. "Then allow me to procure her ire."

As everyone moved to take their places, Loki grasped my uninjured arm, bringing me gently to a halt. "You've already sustained enough damage," he murmured close to my ear, the tickle of his cool breath making me shiver. "You should—"

He broke off the moment I laid my hand atop his, my wounded arm throbbing from the gesture. "I will exercise caution and stay back. I know. You've warned me as such at least a dozen times before."

His brow arched. "Then why is it that you never seem to listen?"

"For what it's worth, I will no doubt exercise caution when dealing with a dragon," I said.

Satisfied, he took my elbow in hand and steered me towards the edge of the cavern where we hid amongst a cluster of stalagmites. Across from us, at the far end of the chamber, Hogun and Fandral also crouched in waiting. Due to Thor's haste, we did not have to wait long.

A distinct crackle filled the air as electricity gathered around Mjolnir. In such an enclosed space, the sheer power heated the entire cavern, garnering the dragon's attention just before Thor let the electric charge fly.

Hakurei roared when the current enveloped her, running along her scales. As was hoped, she rushed at Thor, charging straight from the tunnel, flames building and churning in the back of her throat. For a fleeting moment, I lingered on the fact that she'd left the tunnel in her wake undefended, providing us with an escape. But I ignored it. So long as Hakurei sought to impede any one of our company, she was our objective.

In the next several seconds, one thing became clear: distracting a dragon was simple, but avoiding death by dragon fire was much less so. A burst of flame spread across the ground, the force of it sending Thor flying backwards. Despite the urge to lend Thor aid, I followed Loki's example and kept a wide berth. That Thor had not returned to his feet since the blast knocked him to the ground made it all the more difficult to refrain.

Stalking forwards with the sole intent of bearing down upon Thor, the dragon moved just beneath the firestone upon which Sif crouched. We all watched, silent with bated breath, as Sif made the leap, gripping Drekisbane in both hands. Her aim, as always, was true.

She landed atop Hakurei's head, right where her horns met her skull. The blade of the legendary weapon proved true to its name as it tore through dragon scale, piercing bone and the soft flesh inside. An earsplitting screech filled the cavern, the sound unlike anything I'd ever heard. It sent me to my knees, hands pressed over my ears in a desperate attempt to dampen the torment. Amidst my disorientation, I was vaguely aware of Loki beside me, doing much the same.

When the shrieking stopped and I lifted my gaze next, I saw Hakurei shake Sif free, sending her tumbling to the ground with Drekisbane still embedded in the dragon's skull. As the massive creature began thrashing about, made addled by the damage to her brain, Thor launched himself forth with a shout, cuffing her in the jaw. Hakurei fell to one side, her head hitting the ground at an angle.

Reacting with utmost haste, Sif clambered to her feet and rushed to retrieve Drekisbane, but the dragon snapped up quicker than expected. Even as alarm rippled through the rest of us, we did not hesitate to act. Fandral and I darted forwards at the same time, blades in hand. We both slashed at Hakurei's hind legs, Fandral on the left and me on the right.

My sword must have done more harm, for it was me she turned towards, open maw descending upon me. A cry stuck in my throat as I shifted on my heel and dove to the ground just seconds before her jaw snapped shut right where my head had been. From the corner of my eye, I saw her whip her tail about, knocking Fandral, Hogun, and Thor to the ground, their weapons tumbling from their hands.

Satisfied that they could not come to my aid, the dragon turned her attention back to me. I could have sworn I saw her _grin_.

But the grin was soon wiped from her face.

A dagger came soaring from behind me, slicing through the air to slam into her left eye.

If I thought the dragon's earlier wail was earsplitting, the roar she let out now was nothing short of deafening. I collapsed on the ground, stunned, the agonizing pitch rattling my brain. Mere yards from where I lay, Hakurei flailed about, bearings utterly lost with Drekisbane in her skull and one eye gone.

Even so, she stretched out her wings as far as the cavern would allow, the massive span making it appear as though she'd doubled in size. Before any one of us could rise and strike again, her wings lifted and dropped, beating with all her strength, stirring the air in a rising gale. I was tossed backwards, unable to fight the push. In the gloom of the cavern, I could scarcely see any of my friends, but I knew none could stand, not even the mightiest of us.

All the same, Thor had no need to rise to his feet.

The flicker of lightning caught my eye in the darkness. From one side of the cavern, Mjolnir flew upwards and arced back down. The sizzling _CRACK_ of bone and skin breaking and burning resounded. Hakurei screeched once more, the flap of her wings ceasing. Despite the stupefying sound of her roar, I managed to lift my head to see that Mjolnir had torn right through her left wing, crippling her further.

The moment her screams ended, Hakurei ducked her head, covering herself with what remained of her wings. It did nothing to protect the left side of her head, as her wing was in tatters. She didn't even seem to notice Sif dashing towards her, using her horn as leverage to climb atop her immense head.

I all but gaped at the sight before me. While Loki knelt at my side to steady me, I could not take my eyes off of Sif and the dragon. With a balance that would have made most warriors envious, Sif stayed standing on Hakurei's head and yanked Drekisbane free. Dropping to one knee, Sif clutched onto a horn and stabbed downwards, puncturing the dragon's last good eye. Just as Hakurei attempted to shriek once more, Sif drove the blade further until it sunk well into the dragon's skull.

This time, Hakurei could barely sound a cry. Her head hit the ground with a resonating _THUD_ , the impact throwing Sif aside. She rolled and stilled, groaning softly in the absolute quiet of the cavern.

Seconds passed and none of us dared to move, petrified that Hakurei would rise up once more. But the dragon remained silent and motionless, blood seeping from her every wound. After a several long moments, Hakurei did not so much as breathe. And we knew the towering creature of legend was dead.

"Sif!" Thor was the first to race across the chamber to reach her. Grasping her shoulders, he eased her upright to find her dazed, blinking eyes. "Sif, can you hear me?"

"I'm all right," she muttered. "Norns, I can scarcely believe that worked."

A short laugh passed through her lips, and Thor beamed along with her. "There aren't many in the history of the Nine Realms who can claim to have slain a dragon and lived to tell the tale," he said, "but I never doubted you for a second." When he pulled her into his embrace, she seemed to freeze. Then, with a soft smile, she returned the gesture.

The feel of Loki's hand on my cheek tugged on my attention. I met his gaze in the light of the firestones, and we observed one another to see that neither of us had sustained any further damage in the fight against the dragon. That quick once over seemed enough to satisfy Loki, for he drew away and climbed to his feet without a word.

As I stood in his wake, everyone in our company moved to meander about the cavern, tentatively approaching the dragon to ensure that she was in fact dead. I hurried over to Sif, casting Thor a smile as I went, and crouched beside her to seek out any injuries. There was a scrape on her brow and a long gash on her forearm. The wound on her arm required medical attention, but I was incapable of providing it for her. Instead, I gave her a hug, which she returned heartily.

"It seems your legendary sword has lived up to its namesake," Fandral jested, staring up at the slain form of the dragon.

Loki strode past him then, barely sparing Fandral a glance as he neared the dragon. Absent any warning, he tugged at Drekisbane, pulling it free from her head quite easily. When he circled around the corpse and stabbed into her chest, Sif jumped, clamping a hand on Thor's shoulder in an attempt to rise. "Loki, what are you doing?"

He dragged Drekisbane along the dragon's sternum, cutting through scale and bone. "I'm merely ensuring this dragon's heart is never used, especially now that Amora has sided with our adversaries."

No one made any attempt to argue. After all, the dragon's heart could only be used for nefarious purposes. There was no sense in leaving it here. We had far more pressing matters at hand; we didn't need to add to our problems by allowing the heart to fall into the wrong hands.

While we fell into silence, most among us taking the time to rest, Loki went about cutting the dragon open. The crackle and scrape of breaking cartilage filled the air, the very sound of it disconcerting. I watched Loki crack open ribs, slicing through whatever stood in his way. As determined as he was to retrieve the dragon's heart, he was not as unperturbed as he seemed at first glance. Even in the dim light of the firestones, I could tell that his face had taken on a sickly pallor. And it was no effort to discern why: the Red Skull.

The monstrous human had done much the same to Loki, splitting open his chest to study his innards. I felt the blood drain from my face at the thought. Regardless of the staunch reminder, Loki was not deterred. He would not have anyone find the heart intact, whether it was Amora or otherwise.

Rising once more, I closed the distance between Loki and me. When I placed my hands atop his, he froze, stark blue eyes meeting mine in the gloom. "Allow me," I said. I wondered if he understood the reason for my concern. I wondered if these were the memories that haunted him at night.

Despite his apparent distress, he jerked his hands free from mine, his gaze growing sharp. "I'm fine," he snapped.

With a frown, I grasped Drekisbane once more, my hands wrapped tightly around his. "You don't have to hide from me."

Frame tensing, Loki seemed to glower at me. But then, after a heartbeat, he loosed a breath and lowered his eyes. "Forgive me." He clenched his jaw, grip slackening ever so slightly beneath mine. "Forgive me for all that I said about your father—about everything... You didn't deserve that. What happened on Vanaheim was not your fault. The words I uttered were intended to hurt you and nothing more." Shoulders dropping, he bowed his head. "I want you to know that I am sorry."

I blinked at that, my heart twisting at his sudden show of sincerity. And I did forgive him. It came easily. After all, I sought to wound him with my words just the same. Here and now, we both needed that forgiveness. "I know," I murmured. A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You've been apologizing a great deal of late. You once told me that you would not impart any more apologies upon me."

He responded with a sad smile of his own. "That was before I had an inordinate number of things to be sorry for."

A faint breath of laughter passed through my lips. Verily, a lot had happened since he made that vow. There were many a thing we both had to apologize for. "Should I not also be asking for forgiveness?"

Loki furrowed his brow. "Eirlys, you don't have to—"

"No, it was ill done, convincing our friends to follow Amora here. I could have gotten everyone killed. I was scared and... and foolish, and I wielded your past crimes against you to get my way," I told him. "It did not help that Amora made it sound as though I cared only for your misdeeds. That could not be any further from the truth."

By this point, I was keenly aware that our entire company was listening to my every word. I wanted them to. After they bore witness to our dispute—and in the face of their continued distrust of Loki—I wanted them to know why I trusted him. Why my feelings for him never waned. For so long, so many looked upon him with judgement and disdain.

"Your past is part of who you are, but it doesn't have to define you. I know that. I do. And everyone else needs to remember that." I reached out to lay my hand on his cheek. "What you have done for us... for all the Nine Realms—that should not go ignored. And I am sorry if I have ever suggested otherwise."

Eyes widening a touch, Loki stared at me, unspeaking. We held each others' gazes, the tension in the air dissipating in spite of the mounting silence. Letting both my hands come to rest on Drekisbane, my fingers tightening on the grip, I nodded towards the massive corpse. "Let me help you, Loki. You needn't do everything alone."

He did not speak at first, as if still trying to absorb my previous remarks. But then he managed to summon a dry smile. "Do you really think me so fragile?"

"I think you are more so than you would ever care to admit," I replied.

After a time, he relinquished his hold on Drekisbane in wordless assent.

With a deep breath, I fought the desire to empty the contents of my stomach at the smell of the coppery tang filling the air. Through my unease, I pushed myself to complete the gruesome task, carving through flesh and bone, struggling only with the scales that inevitably gave way to the honed edge of Drekisbane. I drew the blade downwards, fracturing the last of the ribs and splitting the dead creature open.

I closed my eyes to the sight, nausea and guilt pouring over me in waves. We'd come all this way to kill a dragon. And for what? Even though she'd attempted to take all our lives minutes ago, it somehow seemed a shame that we entered her domain at Amora's behest to slay her. I certainly could not attest to Hakurei's innocence, but I did not think she deserved to die for the sake of such whims.

This time, it was Loki who curled his fingers over my wrist, taking the weapon into hand. I hesitated, reluctant to let go. "Perhaps I cannot do it alone," he said, "but neither can you."

"Then we do it together."

Instead of letting go, I guided the blade further into the dragon's chest, reluctant and ill at ease. Hands alongside mine, Loki pushed down. With my steadier grasp and his greater resolve, the two of us carved through cartilage and tissue. In little time, we wrenched the entire heart free from the dragon, allowing the massive organ to _plop_ upon the ground. It was near the size of a horse, limp and red, blood weeping from the arteries and trailing across the chamber floor. Again, my stomach roiled, and I released Drekisbane, stepping back to grant Loki the distinction of destroying the heart himself.

"I'm surprised you'd destroy it." Sif's voice was soft, though it seemed to echo loudly in the silence. "I would have thought you'd use it yourself."

Fandral snorted. "What use would he have for it?"

Silence stretched as Loki and Thor shared a dark look. Neither of them responded, but I could surmise what they were thinking.

 _Frigga._

In the span of a heartbeat, Loki simply hefted Drekisbane with both hands and plunged it straight into the heart. Yanking the blade downwards, he cleaved the organ in two. Blood pooled at our feet. While I grimaced and retreated from the growing puddle, he paid it no mind. "Indeed," he said. "What use would I have for it?"

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you," Fandral said, "but I would rather like to leave this dreadful place. I propose we return to Bàhn Modan for a pint of ale to celebrate the finest kill our dear Lady Sif has ever made."

Thor nodded, touching a hand to Sif's shoulder. "I think perhaps we are in need of a moment's reprieve. Aside from that, the Dwarves might be glad to learn there is no longer a dragon occupying the caverns beneath them."

Everyone seemed to assent, moving about to gather up their things to return to the domicile of the Dwarves.

Blood dripping from his hands, Loki passed Drekisbane to Sif before returning to my side. "As much as I would enjoy a drink at this very moment, we may want to show a little more concern for the Soul Stone—the very reason we came all this way in the first place."

With the shake of my head, I reached out to wipe some of the blood from his cheek, succeeding in only smudging it across his pallid skin. "Let them celebrate," I told him. "You and I can recover the Soul Stone. Amora—in her brief moment of coherence—told me that you would know where to find it. She said that we can find it in the place where her sister died."

A shadow passed over Loki's features. "You assume she was telling the truth."

"I assume nothing," I replied. "After... after we sprung her trap, I wish we could disregard anything and everything she says, but it is the only clue we have. Either she spoke the truth for once, in an effort to spite Surtur, or it is another trap. A trap that I am sure to succumb to because I fear we are bereft of options. We need the Soul Stone. This could be our last chance."

In the deep red gleam of the firestones, he quirked a brow. "Well, I don't suppose we've yet reached our quota for idiotic ventures this day."

I canted my head. "And yet it is an idiotic venture you're willing to embark upon."

He loosed an exaggerated sigh. I knew he didn't trust a single word spoken by Amora—and he was right not to—but she still remained our only lead to the Soul Stone. "At the least, we can take precautions and ensure our presence goes unnoticed. If Amora should be there in waiting, I can take comfort in the chance to be rid of her at last." Then he paused, brow furrowed, all traces of humour falling to the wayside as he looked down upon me. "With only the two of us, we would have a much better chance of escaping with our lives should something go awry."

"Are you actually assenting to taking such a risk?" I asked.

"It's as you said, we have no choice. Amora has slipped through our fingers, and we will not have any opportunity to contact her again," he told me. "Moreover, in the open plains of Nornheim, the risk is negligible compared to scouring deep beneath Nidavellir for a dragon."

With a shred of hope burgeoning in my heart at last, I smiled a touch. "Then we mustn't waste another moment here. I will be more than glad to put this place behind us."

Few words were shared when our company exited the underground chamber, leaving the cooling corpse of the dragon in our wake. The sound of our footsteps echoing all around us, we strode through the tunnel Hakurei had been so eager to keep us from entering. The further we walked, the weaker the light of the firestones became.

Once we reached the first fork in the road, everyone looked to Loki for direction. "The tunnel to the right will take you back to Bàhn Modan," he said to Thor. Already, we could see the faint flicker of firelight in said tunnel. "The lefthand tunnel leads to the surface."

Thor glanced at me, brow lifting. "Are you certain we should not accompany you?"

Loki gave a nod. "It will be easier to manoeuvre unnoticed without you."

At Thor's pinched expression, I offered reassurances. "We shall be fine. This is not our first clandestine venture. And we have Heimdall to look after us if need be."

After casting his gaze upon the rest of those in our company, Thor acquiesced. "Then we shall return to Bàhn Modan and hold discourse with the Dwarves. They should know what happened here, as well as the events of these past several days."

"Good." From within his surcoat, Loki withdrew the map the one he called 'the Other' had been carrying earlier. "Take the map. Although... we're all keenly aware of how terrible a navigator you are, so perhaps Sif should take it."

Thor glared in response, but did not otherwise rise to the bait as Sif snatched the parchment from Loki's hands.

Once the rest of our group turned right, fading into the shadows, Loki and I took the tunnel to the left. While the passage was far less serpentine by comparison, it was also far more steep than any of the other tunnels we'd traversed through. At some point, I slipped on what I suspected to be a pile of animal bones, prompting Loki to grab me by the waist. Even after I found surer footing, his hands lingered for several seconds longer than necessary. Though neither of us spoke when he let me go, a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Albeit fewer and further between, firestones guided us from the depths beneath the mountain, indicating that Hakurei once passed this way; the passage had likely served as her entrance to the latticework of tunnels.

Long before we reached the end of the tunnel, the cold gale greeted us. With several more steps, the light poured in from above, blinding us despite being muted by clouds overhead. In minutes, we departed from the caverns entirely and trudged, knee deep in snow, through the vast whiteness to find a place suitable for the Bifrost to recall us to Asgard. Taking my hand in his, Loki practically dragged me along, and I almost lost my footing once or twice.

When he glanced back at me, eyes glinting, I knew he was doing it on purpose. Before I could berate him, he brought us to an abrupt halt and directed his attention to the clouded skies. "Heimdall, open the Bifrost."

The request was met with an extended period of silence, one that made Loki furrow his brow. I had to imagine the unimpressed look on Heimdall's face at being commanded by Loki, the antipathy between them having never faded. Nevertheless, the familiar stream of light broke through the clouds soon after, tugging us from the snow.

The Bifrost drew us from Nidavellir, and we returned to Asgard once more.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Even if you have only a moment, please leave a review.


	14. Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:** Hello all! I meant to update a couple of days ago, but I got a little sidetracked. As always, a huge thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, etc.

This chapter is the second longest chapter of the whole fic. There's a bit of everything in it: plot, down time, and some very lovely Eirlys/Loki moments.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **FOURTEEN**

* * *

 _eye of the storm_

* * *

The swift voyage across the Nine Realms brought us back to the Bifrost observatory in seconds, the deep hum of magic and machinery greeting my ears. I stumbled a little in Loki's wake, the disorienting effects of the Nidavellir climate lingering, but regaining my balance proved no challenge.

"Welcome back."

We both looked up to see Heimdall standing atop his pedestal, gazing upon us with his impassive expression. Loki released my hand and took a step nearer to the gatekeeper, but no more than that. "I presume you've already heard everything?"

"Indeed." Despite the narrowing of his amber eyes, Heimdall bowed his head. "I shall convey you to Nornheim."

"No," Loki said. "Send us to Alfheim, to the shore just south of Nymhael—we can take a pathway from there. Our presence would be made known to all on Nornheim if we were to travel by Bifrost."

"Very well." Once Heimdall lifted and lowered his sword, the observatory began to shift, recalibrating to our new destination. "It will only be a moment."

Loki turned to face me then. In the brighter light of the observatory, he seemed able to garner a better look at my wounds. His fingers caressed the burn on my arm, the cool sensation assuaging the pain to some degree. As he leaned closer, his hands came up to my neck where he ran his fingertips along the abrasions on my skin. It must have looked worse than it felt, for an unexpected darkness shadowed his features.

"We should never have followed Amora into those mines," he muttered.

Frowning, I raised my eyes to meet his. "As I have said, we had no choice. And even if this does not lead us to the Soul Stone, at the least, we did stop the Chitauri."

Thumb brushing the underside of my jaw, he loosed a wry laugh. "I rather doubt the Chitauri would have been much of a match against the dragon."

He was right, I knew. But the belief that the Chitauri could not have bested a dragon did not keep my stomach from churning. They had been determined to find and slay the dragon, no matter the cost. It made me wonder: did Thanos have other means at his fingertips? The Chitauri could not have been his only remaining agents in the universe.

The shift of the observatory ceased, the sound of it pulling me from the void of my thoughts. Heimdall held his sword just above the pedestal, amber eyes turning towards us once more. "Might I suggest some caution when traversing the lands of Nornheim? If need be, I will be able to recall you in an instant. I am certain you will not have any difficulty concealing your presence otherwise."

Loki clenched his jaw and uttered nothing in response, instead turning towards me. "Perhaps you should remain here. You're already injured—in fact, I rather think you need to go to the healing room."

I arched a brow. "I thought we already decided? You can cloak the both of us if necessary. I would not have you travelling to Nornheim, embarking on idiotic ventures by your lonesome."

After a moment, he relented, shoulders dropping a touch. "Then stay close. We must remain wary and move quickly should I be proven correct."

Pulling away from my side, Loki strode to the front of the observatory. As he went, he grabbed a spear from one of the Einherjar standing at the edges, having lost his own somewhere in the Vestri Mines, and disregarded the guard's plainly vexed expression. I cast the Einherjar a contrite look before nodding to Heimdall. In the face of all their grievances with Loki, I found myself surprised that Heimdall and the Einherjar had so few qualms about heeding Loki's less than courteous requests.

With a deep breath, I joined Loki at the fore. Bereft of further acknowledgement, Heimdall plunged his sword and activated the Bifrost once more, sending us to Alfheim at Loki's behest. The observatory spun and shuddered, light striking at the walls.

In the next instant, we were gone.

Through the streaks of shadow and colour, I could see Alfheim clearly ahead in a matter of seconds. My heart twisted at the very sight of it. We had not stepped foot on Alfheim in a number of months. And we'd certainly not seen the state in which it existed after the demons struck several days ago.

Amidst a cloud of sand and smoke, Loki and I landed on the seashore. As Loki had instructed Heimdall, we arrived on the shore just south of Nymhael Isle, a place I'd never been. The island was not far from the mainland shore that we stood upon, a fact that lent to the amount of smoke engulfing the beach, for the forests on Nymhael had been burnt to the ground. Ashes and gnarled, scorched trees were all that remained, a smouldering wreckage unfurling in the dying light of day. This was the damage Surtur's demons wrought. And no one even had a chance to stop them.

"We can't linger here, as much as I know you wish to," Loki said, grasping the crook of my elbow. "There's no knowing if Surtur's demons yet remain, and we cannot risk alerting them to our presence."

I did not protest, allowing him to guide me down the beach, closer to the water's edge. Our boots sank in the wet sand, water eventually sloshing over our toes the further we walked.

Without warning, everything around us wavered and wobbled, our surroundings dwindling before reappearing again as something else entirely. This time, we emerged in the middle of a vast green field, the grass whispering all around us, our arrival as clandestine as possible. I blinked as locks of my hair drooped in my face, and it took several seconds for me to realize that it was raining. The downpour soaked us in little time, the heavy patter against the ground filling my ears.

This was a world not often frequented by most in the Nine Realms. Many claimed the Norns resided in the realm, hence the name, but none had ever seen them. Whether or not they still lived on Nornheim—or if they ever did—was a question that could not be answered. Among the more pious Vanir, Nornheim was a sacred place. A world full of magic. One that should have gone untouched if the Aesir hadn't already trampled all over it.

Even with the deluge, the sudden tranquility of the land surrounding us seized my breath. I could feel it in the very air itself: the calm and the quiet. Verily, Nornheim was known for having a variety of ferocious creatures, but everything here seemed untouched by the destruction Surtur had begun to unleash upon the Nine Realms. I would have rather faced the savage beasts of Nornheim than the demons of Muspelheim.

The boundless silence ended only when Loki spoke. "It's not far."

I hesitated, unable to draw my gaze from the view. A vibrant green stretched as far as the eye could see, the colour broken only by the occasional slate grey stone, sharp angles protruding from the ground. And just beyond that, the land ended abruptly, dropping down to where the stormy ocean churned.

Lowering my eyes, I turned back to Loki. He seemed to wait for me to follow before heading westward, down a slope that led into a valley. At the edge of the valley, the grass came to a sudden stop, as though there were an invisible line preventing the greenery from growing any further. The valley itself was grey dirt and stone, but in the middle—the exact centre—sat a single cherry blossom tree. It was larger than any other cherry blossom tree I'd ever seen, its branches tall and aloft, the petals a deep and vibrant pink. The wind and the rain swept through the limbs, but nary a blossom fell.

For all the tree's great beauty, its presence was peculiar. A cherry blossom tree, in a valley, by its lonesome. Though perhaps it was not so unexpected, considering the environment. There was magic in this world, in the earth beneath our feet. I could feel it all, and it was quite relieving to be able to.

Loki led the way until we reached the very edge of the valley, just before the grass ended, and we surveyed the surrounding area. I saw nothing amiss, other than the strangeness of the pink tree. "I suppose that is where Amora's sister died?" I said, motioning towards the tree with a nod.

"Yes. Such fools they were."

We crouched in a patch of tall grass and further scanned the area for any signs of movement, traps, or trouble. I was uncertain if I knew what any of those things might have looked like, but I felt assured Loki did. "Have you always despised Amora so?" I asked. "She did help us once before, when she was of her own mind."

Tearing his eyes away from the valley, Loki lifted a brow. "She helped me only when it served her ends, if you would recall. But she garnered your sympathy, didn't she?"

I shifted amongst the grass to face him better. "How can you be so certain that was why she helped you?"

"Because that is what I would have done, had I been in her position."

It struck me, at that moment, how close Loki had been to being like her. Alone in the Nine Realms, with nothing but his malcontent and guile to keep him company. I supposed he had been as such when he sought out the Mad Titan. But that was in the past now, and I would keep it that way. "But you're not anymore," I murmured.

Loki met my gaze, ignoring the drenched hair sticking to his forehead. "I know."

After a time, he averted his eyes and leveraged himself up with his spear. "I don't see anything—or anyone, for that matter," he said. "Even so, we should maintain caution."

He stood tall and started into the valley, keeping close to the uneven rock walls. I trailed behind him, my hand on my sword at all times. My regard returned to the cherry blossom tree once more, and I found myself wondering why it stood here, in the place of Lorelei's death. _Perhaps Amora left it here as a monument of sorts_. "What happened to her—Lorelei? How did she die?"

We stopped at the deepest part of the valley, but we did not approach the tree. Loki merely looked at me and dragged a hand through his wet hair, slicking most of it back. "Amora always alleged that she and Lorelei were attacked here by Karnilla, an envious sorceress who sought to take their power and their youth." He paused to shake his head. "All of Asgard believed her, but I suspected the opposite had been the case. Amora and Lorelei must have sought out Karnilla here to take _her_ power and knowledge for their own. Karnilla would not have deliberately sought them out otherwise. In the end, they could not thwart her, and Lorelei paid the ultimate price."

I let out a breath and leaned against the valley wall, the water and stone soothing my burned arm. "Ah, I see... that is why Amora has been so desperate to resurrect her sister. After what happened, she must feel responsible for her death."

"Perhaps." Loki looked at me, head canting to one side. "You pity her."

"Of course I do." I stared across the valley, watching the pink blossoms ripple in the wind. "If I thought I caused the death of a loved one, I would wish I could undo it. I am not certain I would go so far as she has, but... but it's difficult not to consider it."

We both fell silent, our eyes meeting. I did not want to think about how far Loki would have been willing to go if something should happen to me. Nor did he seem to want to linger on it. "I'm astonished to say that Amora may have been telling the truth about the Soul Stone." He glanced at the tree. "More importantly, she's laid no trap."

Through the torrent of rain, I heard the faint chirp of birds far above and the scuttle of small mammals in the valley, burrowing in the grey dirt. He was right. All seemed well and undisturbed. Loki nodded and gestured for me to follow him further into the heart of the valley.

The cherry blossom tree towered over us and swayed in the breeze, but it did not buckle beneath the downpour in the slightest. Standing under the branches, I delighted in the blooms that were a pink so deep it was hard to believe the colour was real. A stark burst of beauty in so dark a time.

Loki knelt by the roots, fingers tracing overturned dirt. Putting aside his spear, he drew a dagger and stabbed into the ground. He did not have to dig deep for his blade to hit something with a _clink_. With a few handfuls of dirt shoved aside, he exhumed a small glass box. I had seen it only once before, but I recognized it immediately.

The Soul Stone.

Encased in the box, the amber gem glowed in the gloom, untouched since I last saw it—untouched for centuries, perhaps. Loki climbed to his feet, holding the glass container between us. "I find it unfathomable that Amora did not lead us astray, especially considering the hold Surtur has over her."

"I think, perhaps, she has not yet lost her own will entirely," I said. "Do you fear that this was too easy?"

He gave the slight shake of his head. "Allowing us to have the Soul Stone is in her best interest now that she has received more than she bargained for with Surtur. She will want to be freed of him, and helping us defeat him will get her what she wants."

"And how can we be certain that is the real Soul Stone?"

"I've seen and felt forgeries. This stone emanates a power that cannot be replicated."

Brow cinched, I reached out and laid a hand atop the case, my fingers brushing his palm. Despite my limited ability to sense magic of late, the power flowing through the stone sent a jolt through me. I'd only ever felt such energy from the Tesseract and the sceptre Thanos had given Loki. Even if they had different properties and capabilities, they all contained similar measures of power. And they were all equally as dangerous.

"I can sense it too." With a slow smile, I let out a breath—a breath I seemed to have been holding for days. "With this... we may yet have a chance." Our gazes locked, and I shifted my hand to clasp his wrist. As I had in the astronomy spire, I told him once more, "We can still do this."

* * *

The journey back to Asgard was as calm as the venture itself, and it was not long before we reconvened with Thor and the warriors. Their dealings with the Dwarves concluded earlier than anticipated; any celebration they may have sought was short lived. It seemed the Dwarves were not quite as keen on revelling when they were anxious to prepare for the coming Ragnarök.

And it was just as well, for Thor and the others were eager to see the Soul Stone—now our beacon of hope—freed from its receptacle. Prior to our whole company's arrival in the throne room, we sent word ahead to the All-Father, informing him that we were now in possession of the Soul Stone.

It had only been a week since Malekith and his Dark Elves laid siege to Asgard. A massive aircraft had careened into the throne room, destroying much of the interior. The pillars, the steps, and the very throne itself had seen varying levels of devastation. But there was no sign of that now. The long, stately chamber looked as though it had been untouched by the attack. I did not find the restoration reassuring. It did nothing to diminish the ordeal in my mind.

Yards from the dais upon which the throne stood, Loki and I waited beside the table where we'd laid the Soul Stone. Thor stood opposite us, eyes trained on the softly glowing amber stone. He made no attempts to touch it, as if the stone itself would burn him. The rest of our usual band of warriors hovered around a brazier to our left, curious and ever watchful. No one spoke, but we could all hear Thor shifting from one foot to the other, his boots scraping against the stone.

With a resounding _thud_ , the door to our right opened at last. The echo of footsteps filled the massive chamber as two dozen Einherjar entered. They surrounded the All-Father, escorting him into the throne room. My chest tightened at the thought that Odin All-Father even needed a guard. I could only pray to the Norns that he was not as weak as he appeared.

He leaned on Gungnir more and more heavily every time I saw him. His walk to the foot of the throne was slow and laborious, and I could tell some of the Einherjar were struggling to refrain from assisting him.

Thor took a single step forward. "Father—"

Odin waved him away, soon reaching the waist-high table that held the Soul Stone, flanked by his contingent of Einherjar. His shoulders seemed weighed down by all the burdens of the Nine Realms—and those burdens were many in number. In the span of a breath, he straightened, his one good eye sweeping over all of us with crystal clarity despite the shadows that haunted his gaze.

At first, he said nothing, merely surveying all among us. Then he dropped his regard to the Soul Stone and bowed his head. "It will require myself and two other magical practitioners to open the glass container," he uttered. "That is how it was sealed, and that is how it shall be undone."

All pairs of eyes turned towards Loki and me in evident expectation. And, although Odin's expression remained decidedly neutral, Loki frowned at him. Nevertheless, he took a step closer in wordless agreement. We were the only ones who could open the case—rather, Odin was the only one who could open the case, and we were the nearest possible sorcerers able to augment whatever spell was required to open it. I wondered if Amora ever made an attempt to unlock it. What would she have done with the Soul Stone then? It certainly would have made for a better bargaining token with many a being in the Cosmos.

"Once the Soul Stone is freed, one of you must wield it." Odin peered at me in his stoic form of a pointed look. All I could think right then was that he did not want Loki to even touch it. "A magical practitioner would have the best chance of controlling the power it contains."

Loki clenched his jaw, and I suspected he made the same assumptions as I: Odin meant for me and me alone to wield it. Even so, if he was at all vexed by the notion, he did not argue against it. "Eirlys is fully capable of manipulating such an instrument. She has used crystals from Alfheim in the past. The only difference is that the Soul Stone is far more powerful."

 _Yes, the_ only _difference_ , I thought dryly. _So powerful that it can rip a soul from its vessel_.

"Very well," Odin assented. "Place your hands over the Soul Stone."

I did as instructed, my hand hovering just inches above the case. After a moment, Loki placed his hand atop mine, his cool fingers curving over the back of my hand. Gripping Gungnir close, Odin held his hand above ours and closed his eye.

A strange thread of magic flowed through my hand. I sensed that Loki felt it too, if the tightening of his grasp was any indication. Somehow, Odin was drawing on our magic—perhaps by employing the power of the Soul Stone itself, regardless of the container it remained within. The energy streamed between us and the glass case until it began to crack, a hairline fracture appearing at the top, snaking all the way down to the bottom like a bolt of lightning. Another followed. And then another. The splintered glass soon broke and fell to pieces, exposing the Soul Stone at long last.

Even though my magic was returning to me, it seemed this endeavour was beyond my current limits. I stumbled back a ways, my vision blurring far more than anticipated. Loki was quick to clasp my elbow to keep me steady. Across from us, Odin appeared to experience a similar weakness. He struggled to remain standing, relying on Gungnir as a crutch. This time, he did not rebuff Thor's help, instead allowing him to place a hand on his shoulder without objection.

Gaze growing distant, Odin did not speak again. Perhaps he was too riddled with exhaustion to venture a word. Or perhaps there was simply nothing else left for him to say. With no other task left to fulfill, he turned and started back in the direction from whence he came, Thor's hand falling in his wake as the All-Father was surrounded once more by his Einherjar. In all likelihood, he would return to his meditation and wait for the end to come.

"You should take it." Loki looked down at me, and I straightened in his hold, the strength in my legs returning. He nodded towards the Soul Stone, eyes never leaving mine. "Take the stone. We'll need it soon, I'm sure."

I tilted my head. "Are you certain you don't want it?"

He let go of my elbow and smirked. "Tempting. But I meant what I said. The Soul Stone is not unlike the crystals of Alfheim. It will be better in your hands, even if we cannot be certain that it will actually extract the Aether from Malekith. Though I suppose wrenching his soul from his body isn't a terrible alternative."

I gazed upon the Soul Stone still sitting within the remainders of the glass case. Small shards clung to the thin golden frame, edges jagged and sharp. I reached out towards the stone, but paused halfway there, struck by the sudden surge of magic in the air around it. For all of my experience with Infinity Stones, I'd never really touched one before, let alone attempted to use one.

"It's not going to harm you," Loki remarked.

Despite quirking a skeptical brow at him, I heeded his reassurances. With a deep breath, I slipped my hand through the open case and pressed my fingers to the surface of the amber-coloured stone. The sheer power that seeped from the stone near overwhelmed me. For a moment, I could not breathe. I could not move. I could not think. Its energy flooded my being, surging through my veins, but it did not overpower me. Nor did it wreak havoc on the core of my magic. The magic from the Soul Stone was refined, channelling a warmth through me, filling my heart until it brimmed over.

Swallowing thickly, I pulled the Soul Stone free from the container that kept it prisoner for decades—perhaps even centuries. It was shaped much like a dagger, the long, pointed end sharp enough to pierce armour. The opposite end had shallow grooves, resembling a handgrip. As Loki had said, it did feel much like the crystals from Alfheim. Albeit far more dangerous.

"I think wielding it will not be too difficult," I said, cradling the glowing amber stone between my hands. "Even so, I'd really rather not use it any more than necessary."

The corner of Loki's mouth lifted. "That would probably be wise."

"Heimdall is scouring the Nine Realms for any sign of Malekith," Thor told us. "Let us hope we can end this before they can."

"We will have to contend with Surtur, either way," Fandral remarked. "I am uncertain how soon I wish for the end to come."

With a soft laugh, Sif stepped closer to observe the Soul Stone, still warm and tingling in my hands. "We won't have much say in the matter when it comes to Surtur. His demons will have found most of the Twilight Sword shards by now—we'll have no hope of thwarting them on that front any longer. Our best chance of swaying circumstances in our favour would be by killing Malekith and obtaining the Aether."

"Well then." Loki glanced from me to his brother. "If there were one last task I could accomplish before I die, then let it be the taking of Malekith's life."

Thor tensed and met his gaze. "You will hear no argument from me."

Even with the Soul Stone in our possession, the anxious air lingered. It was a small victory in a grand scheme. None were eager to face the road before us. We were going to have to contend with Surtur in the coming days, in that we had no choice.

While my friends discussed their next course of action for the night, I canted my head, unsettled by the thought of what lay ahead. The Soul Stone had become my responsibility, and I could not tolerate the notion of failing. Glancing between Loki and Thor, I proffered the stone. "Perhaps the stone should be kept in the vault until it is needed."

Loki lifted a brow. "And what would happen if you needed it and it was not in your possession?"

"I would rather not be caught unawares with the Soul Stone on my person," I said. "I hope to find rest before we face whatever is to meet us on the morrow. I cannot be prepared for conflict every single second."

"I will take it," Thor offered. "You deserve a moment of rest."

" _We_ will take it." Loki gave his brother a pointed look before turning to me. "You, on the other hand, are in need of a visit to the healers."

I could not argue with him in that respect. The burns from the dragon's fire stung more than most injuries, save for that caused by the jorgandr venom. "Then I trust you will see to it." I pressed the stone into Loki's hand, and he gifted me with a kiss to my temple in exchange.

Sif, Fandral, and Hogun were quick to take their leave from the throne room in search of a good wash and some ale. As we all parted ways, I alone sought treatment in the healing room.

My injuries were not serious, in spite of the throbbing pain radiating from both the burn on my arm and the cut at my throat. Marawen was far less harried this day now that most of the wounded Einherjar had been released from the house of healing. I tried not to think of how quickly those fortunes could change.

Removing my armour with well-practiced fingers, she tugged aside my undershirt to examine the shoulder wound I'd garnered days ago from fighting the Dark Elves on Midgard. It hadn't hurt a whit since then—the product of good healing—but Marawen's meticulous care was not unwelcome.

Finished with her inspection, she treated the cut on my neck with simple magic. The burn on my arm required some more potent salves, which she slathered on liberally before wrapping the burned skin with pristine white bandages. She could not guess the extent of the scarring, for dragon fire tended to be unlike normal fire. Regardless, there was no doubt it was grievous and would take longer to heal than most burns. I was simply glad the rest of my person hadn't caught flame and that the pain had gone from a terrible throb to a cool numbness.

When my treatment was at an end, I grabbed my breastplate and looked across the room. Volstagg was awake now, sitting up in bed. He seemed to be frowning at nothing in particular, hands fiddling with the edge of his blanket. Considering that he'd been bedridden for several days, I suspected he was growing restless.

A faint smile in place, I wended through several healers to reach his bedside. "How are you faring, my friend?"

"Well enough, though I admit that I have begun to envy this most recent venture of yours," Volstagg replied. When I lowered my eyes, a pang striking my heart, he leaned forward and patted my hand. "It's quite alright, Eirlys. I overheard some of the healers speaking just before you arrived. Our dear Lady Sif has slain a dragon! I only wish I could have been there to see it."

I met his gaze, recalling my smile as best I could. It was difficult to dwell on the knowledge that he could not accompany us and fight any longer. He might never have that opportunity again.

As if sensing my wavering resolve, Volstagg clasped my hand in his. "I never had a chance to thank you for retrieving me on Vanaheim as you did." Refutations on my tongue, I shook my head, but he precluded me from speaking. "I know you fought to return for me. Loki would have left me behind, and yet you convinced him to turn back—a choice even I would have been hesitant to make with so many lives in the balance."

A soft laugh escaped my lips. "Did Fandral tell you this?"

"No." Though Volstagg frowned, it passed as quickly as it appeared. "It was Hogun. He may say little, but he is an excellent listener. He may well know everything about all of us."

This time, I smiled with a little more conviction. "I do not doubt that." Shoulders relaxing, I grasped his fingers in return. "The loss of so many was... harrowing. But I am glad to see that you are recovering."

For but a moment, he peered up at me in uncharacteristic silence. "You have my condolences, for your father," he said. "It was not your fault, what occurred that day. I understand the weight of those who die in war. It will bear down on you, lingering to haunt you if you let it. But life has much to offer, Eirlys. You cannot allow all of those horrors to take that from you."

 _Life has much to offer_. As short as the rest of our lives might end up being, I took his words to heart. Perhaps it was an Asgardian philosophy. There was no need to wallow in the sorrows and perils of the Nine Realms. That was why they did not often mourn death. They celebrated life, even after it ended.

With the bow of my head, I expressed my gratitude for his wisdom and prepared to give my farewells. It was a well-timed parting of ways, apparently, for the healers soon approached with Volstagg's supper: meat stew and fresh bread. I could not keep from smiling at that. It was not wise to stand between Volstagg and his next meal.

"Rest well, Volstagg," I said. "We shall see one another soon."

He offered a smile that was weary but genuine. "I will hold you to that vow."

As I turned to take my leave, I stopped short at the sight of Hildegund and her children entering the healing room. Although the little ones scurried to join their father, Hildegund stopped to meet me. "Eirlys, I am glad to see you well," she said. Nevertheless, the furrow in her brow made me question if I truly looked well. "I hope you are not departing on our account. You should stay to visit a while longer."

I shook my head. "No, it's quite alright. You should have your time together." _There might be little of it left._

Hildegund smiled in response, even as the light in her eyes dimmed a little. She must have been thinking the same.

Upon my departure, I returned to my chambers to wash myself and clean my armour. When I was done, I left my equipment laid out on my vanity, for I knew I would need it sooner rather than later.

By the time my tasks were completed, my body ached, exhaustion seeping into my bones. I wanted to rest, but resting meant wallowing in the dread my own silent contemplation seemed to bring. As I decided to venture the corridors for good company, word of a banquet rippled through the palace. The Einherjar at my door claimed it to be a celebration for 'Sif the Dragonslayer.' While I did not doubt that they were indeed celebrating Sif's triumphs, I suspected the Asgardians were mostly looking for a distraction before the end.

I did not hesitate to join them.

The banquet was a raucous affair, though it felt like less of a banquet and more of a tavern party with the food and drink spread across the long table in equal measure. I ate my fair share, listening to Fandral recount the 'Legend of Bàhn Modan' wherein Sif singlehandedly slew a dragon. Hogun shook his head at the embellishments, but he never refuted them. At the head of the table, Thor beamed and exuded good cheer despite his often distant stare.

Loki, to no one's surprise, had chosen not to attend.

Once the empty platters were cleared, the drinks seemed to flow in even greater volume. I took to hovering by the balcony doors, as I tended to do, revelling in the cool breeze while still absorbing the merry atmosphere. I cradled a large mug of mead between my hands, savouring the sweetness on my tongue after every sip.

A presence at my side made me turn, but I did not have to turn far to see that it was Sif. She balanced a goblet in one hand, the golden chalice filled to the brim with deep red wine. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

In truth, the unease had scarcely lifted from my shoulders. I'd thought a distraction would alleviate the worries on my mind, but it never seemed to be enough. "Are you?" Her brow quirked as I avoided her initial question; still, she did not make further mention of it. "They are celebrating you and your accomplishments, after all."

"That is merely a pretence."

I shook my head. "The way they cling onto Fandral's tales of your conquest says otherwise."

She averted her gaze, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It is odd for me to be so honoured by all these Asgardians, the courtiers especially. Every one of them once scoffed at the notion that I could become a warrior, let alone one so well revered."

Shifting on my heel, I turned to stand beside her and peered round at the Aesir who were relishing in every second we had remaining in the Nine Realms. I could recall the first time we faced the courtiers together, standing at the threshold, like the first of many battles in which we would fight side by side. "They were all very wrong," I said.

"Indeed. Look at us now." Despite her cheer, Sif glanced my way and gave me a sad smile. "You're worried, aren't you? Even with all our combined strength and everything we've accomplished."

"I think that may be the problem." I dropped my eyes to the floor and shook my head. "We haven't accomplished much at all. The sword shards were always just beyond our grasp. Malekith and Amora fight for Surtur. We may have the Soul Stone, but that is no guarantee it will benefit us in the end. We still have no way of defeating Surtur."

Sif lowered her goblet, her smile, small as it was, dwindling away. "We cannot afford to think like that if it should cause us to waver. Malekith is our objective now. Once we have the Aether in our possession, there is no knowing what we might be capable of. We keep moving forward until it's no longer possible."

The heaviness in my chest waned, if only a touch. "Then I suppose... we will face what we must when we must."

She chuckled. "That is why we must maintain good spirits. With such uncertainty laid before us, how could we face it otherwise?"

After a fashion, I shared in her humour. "Ah, yes. Hence the Asgardians' insatiable need to celebrate at every given opportunity."

"Unfortunately, good spirits can be hard to maintain, even for those of Asgard." She cast a darting glance in Thor's direction. He sat amongst a gathering of warriors and Einherjar, talking and listening with a smile in place. And yet his smile never truly banished the absent look in his eyes. "He worries as much as you do, if not more."

I lifted a brow and nodded towards him. "Perhaps he is also in need of your good counsel."

She blinked and looked at me, her eyes widening a fraction. Her whole frame seemed to relax after a breath, and she motioned over my shoulder with the inclination of her head. "I think there is someone else who is in need of your good counsel as well."

Brow furrowed, I followed her line of sight to see a familiar figure lingering in the shadow of a pillar at the edge of the banquet hall.

"I will see you on the morrow," Sif said, angling her body towards Thor. "Sleep well. As nice as it is to have high spirits, being well rested should not be taken for granted."

Without another word, she strode forth to join Thor. But just before she stepped out of earshot, I called out, "Sif, wait." She paused and looked back. "You have my thanks for... everything."

She offered a shaky smile. "There is no need to thank me, my friend." Offering one final nod, she continued on her way.

Quaffing the rest of my mead, I took a deep breath and set off across the banquet hall. Once I left my mug on the tray of a passing servant, I climbed the steps to the columns at the edge of the hall and slunk through the shadows the braziers never seemed to chase away. I found him leaning his shoulder against one of the columns, arms folded, his regard focussed on nothing in particular.

But he knew I was there. He always did.

"Lurking in the shadows?" I said. "I did not think you would come."

Loki canted his head to look at me askance. "Where else would I get a drink at a time like this? The Asgardian courtiers have claimed every cask in the realm."

He pointedly took a sip of deep amber liquid from his goblet as a sudden laugh broke through our quietude. Three maidens caught our attention, though I supposed they were not maidens any longer: Brynlar, Afildys, and Dagmar, formerly known to me as the Simpletons Three. They were all three cooing over the baby in Brynlar's arms—her baby, if the matching blond hair was any indication. Our regard went unnoticed, for we were firmly planted in the shadows.

Loki scoffed at the sight of them. "Never in my years did I think I would see them again. They gave me a rather wide berth after you left."

My brow arched. "Perhaps they thought the chances of garnering your favourable opinion died once our relationship..." I trailed off and shook my head with a sigh. "Or perhaps they've simply changed? People have the tendency to change for the better when you least expect. When you think all hope is lost." Smiling softly, I met his gaze in the dim light. "And for that, I am glad."

Averting his eyes from mine, he smirked. "You might want to reconsider how much they have changed for the better."

When he nodded towards the Simpletons Three, they were casting sharp looks in the direction of another group of women and their children, muttering what I could only assume to be unkind words. I loosed a heavy breath, astounded that they could be as they had always been with Ragnarök looming over us.

"They are all too skilled in the art of ignoring the Nine Realms' problems," I said, folding my arms over my chest. "Something I seem unable to do. Ever since... ever since the Convergence began, I have been in a constant state of worry for everyone. For Asgard. For Midgard. For Vanaheim and Alfheim. There is so much we stand to lose."

For a time, Loki remained silent, staring out across the crowd. Without moving even an inch, he said, "The Elf maiden you spoke to several days ago—among the refugees from Alfheim—I presume that was Driana."

My brow furrowed at the unexpected enquiry, but I did not hesitate to provide an answer. "It was."

"And the baby... Castien is the father."

"Yes." I felt my chest ache at the thought of their baby. To be reminded that Castien would never be able to meet his son. "Castien and Driana were together long before I married him." When Loki looked back at me, eyes narrowing, I found myself saying, "Castien and I... we never..."

He reached out to take my hand, bringing my stumbling to a halt. "No, I know. I just..." Expression pinched, he shook his head, and I peered up at him, brow furrowing. His lacking words was a rare occurrence, one that I found rather disconcerting. "Are we forever doomed to lose all that we desire before we ever really have it?"

 _He's just as frightened as I am, but he would never admit to it_. Slipping my hand from his, I wrapped my arms around my midsection, my gaze darting towards the other Asgardians in the banquet hall, towards the children. The families. "Did you... did you ever think that was a possibility for us?"

His smile was more bitter than humorous. "I entertained the thought before you left for Alfheim."

"You did?" They were dreams I too had once, long ago. I thought I would've been able to find some way to convince my father to let me marry Loki, that we could someday have a family of our own. But now... even when I was long past needing father's permission, we stood on the brink of the universe's end. That dream had become ever more feeble. I fought to contain the tears that threatened to well in my eyes. "I suppose we've lost our second chance too."

Again, he held my hand in his, fingers brushing my waist. "Some months ago, Frigga asked me why we hadn't married yet. At the time, I told her I didn't know why."

I gave him a searching look for one long, lingering moment. "And what would you say now?"

Loki hesitated, brow furrowed. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On you, Eirlys," he said simply. "You were ashamed of me, so concerned you were about what everyone else thought."

I frowned, uncertain of what to say. He was not wrong. As much as I tried not to dwell on the past, I could never forget what happened. But I did not want him to assume that I loved him any less for it. "For a time... I think a part of me was. Despite what others might say—despite what you may believe—that is no longer the case. They don't know you as I do. They have not seen all that you have done. They do not love you as I do."

At those words, he seemed to take in a shaky breath.

"History cannot be changed. Your past is in your past. I want nothing more than to be a part of your future, no matter how short it may end up being." I smiled when the tension in his body melted away. "I would have married you, if you had asked."

Silence stretched on between us, and I began to wonder if I'd said the wrong thing. After several slow and steady heartbeats, he withdrew his hand from mine and removed the ring—the very one he had given me—from my right hand. I'd worn the ring for so long that it felt strange to be without it, so rarely did I remove it.

"Prince Brokk bestowed this ring upon me in my youth—a favour for his most favoured customer," Loki said, holding the ring aloft. The emerald and two diamonds shimmered in the sliver of moonlight peeking between the columns, the knotted silver band polished and shining as ever. "I let it sink deep in a drawer of my belongings because I never thought I'd meet anyone worthy of it. But then you became the only person in the Nine Realms I could ever imagine wearing it."

My breath caught in my throat as he took hold of my left hand and slipped on the ring. Right where I'd always wished it had been. _All this time_ , I thought. _We wasted so much time_. And I wasn't willing to waste what little we had left. Stretching up on the tips of my toes, I grasped his shoulders and dragged him down for a kiss. His hands were quick to find my waist, gripping me tight, pulling my body to his, our lips moving together in perfect synchrony.

The need for air forced us to separate, but neither of us drew very far apart. He pressed his brow to mine, eyes closed, our breaths mingling. It occurred to me then how odd it was to be able to kiss him, to be so intimate with him in the presence of others when we'd been forced to maintain great secrecy in the past. I liked it better this way. We had nothing to stand between us. Save for death itself.

Our moment of affection fell to the wayside when a hush swept over the revellers nearest to us. I pulled away from Loki and glanced about, quickly discerning the cause of what seemed to be reverent silence: Odin.

Gungnir at his side, just as before, he strode further into the chamber, Asgardian courtiers parting ahead of him. His Einherjar escort remained behind, ever vigilant but just out of reach. Everyone in the vicinity stared at him, eyes wide. It had been rare for him to attend such gatherings, even in times of peace. That this was also the first time he'd been seen outside of the sleep chamber or the throne room since the queen's death added to the curiosity.

His stern gaze sought us out despite the shadows we stood within. "There are several matters I wish to discuss," Odin proclaimed, climbing the few steps that separated the columns from the rest of the banquet hall. I inched away from Loki, unsure if I was privy to such discourse, but Odin held his hand up to stop me. "Please stay, Lady Eirlys. You will want to hear what I have to say. Frigga trusted you with all she knew, and I will do the same."

Though Loki frowned in response, he did not make any attempts to dismiss him. "I presume you're here to discuss Surtur."

Odin looked upon him for several wordless moments before pressing on. "As you know, Surtur is not a foe that can be struck down so easily as the Mad Titan or Malekith." I almost laughed at the suggestion that Thanos or Malekith could be easily struck down, but my amusement died when comparing them to the sheer implacability of Surtur. "I have meditated on our possible course of action these past several days. If we cannot slay Surtur, we must employ other means to rid the Nine Realms of him."

I stood straighter, my pulse quickening. "Then you have some idea of what we must do?"

The All-Father nodded to me before looking towards Loki. "We must harness dark energy to open a rift into the Netherverse."

 _The Netherverse_.

Most knew what it was in the abstract, at least, much like they would know what a black hole or the multiverse was. But only those with magical training ever really understood what the Netherverse meant. Frigga explained it to me once, in her attempt to teach me about portals—something I never fully grasped. There was little known about what we referred to as the Netherverse, if anything at all. For the most part, our knowledge amounted to rumours and speculation, as no one had ever ventured to the Netherverse and back. And that was assuming it even truly existed.

Sorcerers of the past had opened portals between two points, leaving behind the pathways that we now used. They theorized that, with enough dark energy—a power greater than the mightiest of magics—it was possible to open portals between universes. But, in the absence of direction or an end connection, they believed such a breach in the universe would only open into the space that lay amidst dimensions: the Netherverse.

While I was quite taken aback by the suggestion, Loki seemed far less perturbed. "You intend to banish Surtur there."

"Yes." Odin drew himself up, making himself appear far less worn than I knew him to be. "It is a dangerous undertaking, and my ability to muster dark energy is limited. I would only have strength enough to open a rift but not enough to close it."

"This is all based upon unproven theory," Loki retorted. "The amount of dark energy required create a breach into the Netherverse would be unprecedented, unpredictable. Uncontrollable. We don't even know if it's really possible."

"My father, King Bor, believed it possible," Odin replied. "With the might of the All-Father, he would have banished Surtur in such a manner if there had been a way to seal the breach once more. Unfortunately, neither he nor I have ever had the power to both open and close a breach."

I lifted a brow. "Thus you intend to use an item of great might containing a power equivalent to that dark energy to close said breach. You intend to use the Aether."

A hint of a smile breezed over the All-Father's features so quickly that I was sure I imagined it. "Yes, that was my hope. However, I will be too weakened by my usage of dark energy to be able to withstand the effects of the Aether immediately after. I cannot wield the Infinity Stone myself." He turned his regard to Loki, one-eyed gaze sharp as a spear. "And yet such a feat may be feasible in your hands. Among those present, you alone have the greatest experience with dimensional passageways, even if they not of a similar magnitude."

Several notably long seconds passed before Loki loosed an abrupt laugh. "You would have me wield the Aether?"

The All-Father gave a single nod, perhaps ignoring the irony of handing Loki such power when he'd done nothing but withhold it from him in the past. "The Aether consumes the life force of the being who carries it. You would not be able to wield it for long."

"Nor would I have the opportunity," Loki remarked. "Time would be all too short by then. The breach would grow unruly and unstable in minutes. It could tear apart the very fabric of our universe, obliterating everything and everyone with it—that might be conjecture, but it is conjecture I am inclined to believe."

Pausing, Loki shook his head and chuckled. "And that is why you chose not to mention this scheme with everyone present. You knew Thor would object."

Verily, my own initial reaction was to object. Though it had never been attempted before, there was no doubt in my mind that opening a breach to the Netherverse would be well beyond dangerous. If it did as we hoped, it would draw Surtur into the depths of nothing, but it could also potentially drag everything else in. What if the breach expanded, like a tear in a piece of fabric pulling until it could no longer be repaired? The breach into the Netherverse could kill untold numbers if we failed to contain it. It could even go so far as to destroy the universe itself.

Despite all of these fears, I had to concede that it was worth the risk. We had no other way of defeating Surtur. Burying the God of Flame deep in the heart of a world was, perhaps, a temporary solution. But we had this chance, this wild chance, to be rid of him forevermore.

"I knew that Thor never agree to the great risks and inevitable loss of life should we employ a breach into the Netherverse." Odin faced Loki straight on, his stern expression diminishing a touch. "However, I suspected that you would. There is little that you would not do to save all that you care for." He gave a nod in my direction, and it seemed we were both quite aware that Loki would not oppose Odin, even to spite him, if it meant that the Nine Realms did not meet its end.

With a heavy breath, Loki looked over the crowd and nodded in begrudging acceptance. "There is no certainty that this will work. Not to mention the simple fact that we do no have the Aether in our possession."

"I need you to be certain," Odin asserted. "As for recovering the Aether, our odds have increased now that we have the Soul Stone."

"Increased, yes," I said, "but not by much. Even with the Soul Stone in hand, Malekith is no docile foe."

"Retrieving the Aether is a necessary risk," Loki told me. "There is no possible way we could face Malekith and Surtur at the same time. We have no choice but to destroy Malekith before it's too late."

To my surprise, Odin agreed with Loki in an instant. "Indeed. Heimdall searches for Malekith as we speak. He will fall by our hand soon enough."

Although a part of me felt honoured by Odin's confidence, I could not help but think that it was a confidence unfounded. There was so much risk and uncertainty that accompanied the task he set before us, and yet he appeared to think little of it. I supposed, in the end, any risk was worth preventing Ragnarök from coming to pass. Even if that risk was the life of everyone in the realm.

Again, Loki fell quiet, as though slowly processing the entirety of our discourse. "If it is truly your intention to tear open a breach into the Netherverse to banish Surtur once and for all, then I suppose I best familiarize myself with any conjecture regarding the practice. Frigga would have had texts regarding these magical theories in her collection."

"That would be most wise." As before, I was a little taken aback by the All-Father's assent, but Loki did not react. "Until such time as Ragnarök descends upon the Nine Realms, I must return to my meditation and conserve my energy. Surtur will surely strike soon, as he gathers the remainder of the Twilight Sword."

Offering little other acknowledgement aside from a perfunctory nod, the All-Father gripped his spear tight and turned back to rejoin the Einherjar who had been waiting near the entrance of the banquet hall. Once he disappeared from sight, Loki met my gaze, lips posed to speak, words on the tip of his tongue. And yet he refrained, drawing away from me.

"Do you really think this to be the best course of action?" I asked—a question I didn't even know how to answer myself. "It is as you said: a breach into the Netherverse would surely tear apart everything around it. Imprisoning Surtur beneath the surface of a world is still an option. You seem unconcerned about the lives that will be lost."

He actually had the audacity to laugh. "I am not going to pretend to concern myself with collateral damage. I'll leave that to you."

I all but recoiled at his flippancy. "Loki..."

"Allowing a few soldiers to die in order to stop Surtur is nothing," Loki said. "If we tried to imprison Surtur again, he would find his way free eventually. Banishing him forever from this plane of existence is the only way to ensure that he will not return to destroy us all. Even you cannot argue that. I would not put this one chance at risk in an effort to prevent all from dying."

And he was right; I could not argue it. So many had died in this battle, and many more would follow. If fracturing the universe would save all the Nine Realms from Surtur, now and forevermore, was a handful of lives not worth the sacrifice? _Those lives would be a drop in the ocean compared to the countless numbers who could die._ The notion made my stomach churn, but it was a notion I would not dispute.

"Perhaps you're right. It is a risk we must take, for we haven't any choice." Canting my head, I laid my hand on his arm. "If you mean to seek out your mother's books, I would not object to lending aid."

Loki reached out to brush the skin under my eye with his thumb. "You look as though you might fall into a slumber at any moment," he said. "As much as I would enjoy your company, I think it best that you find some rest. There is no knowing what the morrow might bring."

Unable to argue, I forced a soft smile and nodded. Even after his hand fell away from my cheek, he peered down at me a moment longer. Absent any further words, he pressed an all too fleeting kiss upon my lips before pacing the steps, following in Odin's wake in the hopes of uncovering whatever wisdom Frigga may have left behind.

I heaved a sigh and tarried in the shadows a while longer. The Simpletons Three had long since migrated elsewhere, giving me a clear view of my friends. Most still sat at the banquet table, where they continued to drink and eat—Fandral more so than the rest. For a brief moment, I thought to join them, but the exhaustion that gripped my body stopped me short of doing so.

Instead, I took my leave, returning to my chambers to find some sleep at last.

* * *

 _A hand gleams, brilliant and blinding. The magnitude of destruction is untold, unprecedented, unforgiving. None in the Nine Realms can match such a force. It is too potent. Too zealous. Infinite. There is fire. And darkness. A foreboding laugh echoes throughout the Cosmos. A laugh I never thought to hear again._

I jolted awake, my heart thundering in my ears, drowning out the silence of the night. Groaning, I pressed my hands over my face. One second passed. Then two. With a heavy breath, I rolled onto my side, blinking in the dark. My eyes were slow to adjust to the faint gleam of twilight, but when they did, I noticed that Loki's side of the bed had been slept in.

Lifting my head, I saw him standing in the balcony doorway where he'd adopted his usual stance, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. Bereft of his shirt, the scars on his back stood out amidst the gloom. A chill ran down my spine at the sight of them, the muted light creating strange shadows. Every so often, when I looked upon his scars, I found myself imagining the pain he must have felt while trapped beneath the jorgandr. The sizzle and burn followed by his screams. A shudder ran through me at the very thought.

After a moment, he shifted and turned, his eyes seeking mine, even with such a distance between us. "Nightmare?"

I exhaled, my breath shaky, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "As is always the case." Flinging aside the bedcovers, I touched my feet to the marble floor and grimaced at the searing cold. On the tips of my toes, I sidled across the bedchamber and came to a stop just at his elbow, shivering in the winter breeze. "I presume you found your mother's works?"

He snorted softly. "They are not instructions, to be sure. But I think I may comprehend enough to put theory into practice. A breach into the Netherverse is not unlike a passageway, save for its far greater magnitude and far darker magic. I know how to seal a pathway; the same principles should apply to the breach." With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "As it happens, the All-Father is the only one among us who can conjure dark energy enough to fracture the universe. It should require less to seal it, at the least—the power of the Aether should be sufficient."

Admittedly **,** I was not fond of his liberal use of the word 'should.' The uncertainty still hung in the air, weighty and stifling, but I did not think he needed to hear my concerns. They were, no doubt, concerns he'd already considered. We were about to attempt a number of things that sorcerers of the past only ever contemplated. With no other solution, either we took the risk or died waiting.

As I moved to stand beside Loki, peering over the balustrade, laughter echoed from far below, the sound carrying on the wind. It came from those doing their best to ignore the coming doom—or perhaps they were too inebriated to care. My gaze flickered back to Loki. Even in the dusk, I could see the tiredness etched into his brow, the shadows beneath his eyes, the lack of colour in his skin. "You look as though you haven't slept." I nodded towards the bed. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough."

Inclining my head to one side, I leaned closer and cupped his jaw. He looked at me then, his eyes glistening, even in the gloom. "Allow me to venture a guess," I said. "You also had a nightmare."

Gaze dropping, he nudged my hand aside and turned his face away from me.

But I shook my head and sidestepped to remain in his line of sight. "This has been a common occurrence, has it not? You don't have to keep shutting me out. Especially now..."

He gave me a wry smile. "Yes, especially now that the Nine Realms are on the verge of bursting into flames."

"That's... well, that was not quite what I meant." I could scarcely suppress a dry smile of my own. "I know sleep has not been easy for you. During our travels, you hardly had any peace. And it's only grown worse. After all that's happened—all that we've lost—you don't have to carry it in silence."

Loki hesitated, averting his eyes. Looking out over the water, he frowned, brow cinched tight, as if it pained him to speak of what haunted him at night. I could not say if it was the dreams themselves or having to tell me about them that bothered him more. "The dreams... they are not always the same. But, more often than not, they tend to feature Johann Schmidt. The Red Skull, the humans called him. He was a demon in his own right." His fingers reached up to trace the scar on his sternum, a long pink line that never seemed to fade. "How simple it was for a human to hold my life in his hands."

I felt my stomach churn at the memory of Loki cutting open the dragon, dissecting the creature to destroy her heart. My mind conjured images of Schmidt doing the same to Loki. It made me realize why he never wanted to dwell upon his dreams. Aside from being utterly horrific, what the Red Skull did to him—it was all a reminder of his mortality. Of how easily he could be cut open again and again. He had to relive that through every nightmare. At times, it was difficult to remember that we were not immortal. With the looming threat of Ragnarök, it was becoming difficult to forget. We could die at any given moment. And I feared what awaited us beyond... what awaited him.

Would his past crimes prevent him from entering hallowed halls?

My vision blurred, tears burgeoning in my eyes. I may have thought him worthy, but I was one of very few. Would our forefathers forgive him as I had? Would they look past his transgressions and appreciate the good he had done? Swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I turned away and pressed a hand to my mouth.

This time, it was he who would not let me stray. "What troubles you? My dreams can't possibly disturb you any more than your own."

That he could read me so easily made me smile, but it could not keep the tears from escaping. They made their tracks down my cheeks, falling from my chin. "It's not just the dreams," I murmured. "They remind me of how vulnerable we truly are. And if we were to die on the morrow, or the next day, I cannot help but wonder what comes after. Will I be able to find you in Valhalla? Would the gates be open to you?"

His expression darkened. Even so, he did not seem surprised by the question. Perhaps he'd already asked it himself.

"Eirlys..." Shoulders dropping, he cupped my face with both hands, brushing the tears away. "This may astonish you, but that may well be the only question to which I have no answer."

Somehow, I managed to laugh through my quavering breath. "Oh Norns, how I wish that were not the truth."

Loki chuckled, though it did not bear any real humour. "What is this? Are you asking me to lie to you?"

"If only that could actually work." I trembled, tears pricking my eyes once more. "We've lost so much time. Is this all we were meant to have?"

By then, he ceased his efforts to attempt any japes. "There is no knowing when everything may come to an end. But I would be sure to relish in all that remained to us." He closed the distance between us, his lips a hairsbreadth from my own. When he spoke, his voice dipped low, the sound of it quickening my pulse and sending shivers down my spine. "Should this be our last night together for all eternity, I would make the best of it."

Reacting to that pleasurable twist in my lower abdomen, I grasped his head none too gently and pulled him close to capture his lips with mine. He returned my kiss with equal fervour, his fingers tightening in my hair, tugging a little roughly. I responded in kind, slipping my arms around his bare shoulders, blunt nails marking his skin.

One of his arms curved around my back to haul me up against him. I groaned, my body aching at the sensation of his. He deepened the kiss, his tongue snaking past my lips to stroke my own. Not once parting from me, he pressed me backwards until I collided with the doorframe, a muffled squeak the only sound escaping me.

His fingers trailed along my sides, up to my shoulders, my skin heating under his touch. Breaking the kiss, we panted to catch our breaths, mine appearing in swirling puffs before me. In the pale light, his gaze locked with my own as he slid his hands down my arms, over the numbed and bandaged burn, the straps of my nightgown following his caress. The cream-coloured silk pooled at my feet, the sound of cloth skimming past my skin a mere whisper in the silence. I shivered, though I could not say if it was due to the cool air or his unabashed gaze.

He leaned down to trail kisses across my neck, along my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts. I gasped, gripping his hair, when he swirled his tongue over the most sensitive spot on my abdomen. My blood all but thrummed as he continued downwards, dropping to one knee. Hooking his fingers on the edges of my smallclothes, he dragged them down and let them fall to the wayside where they joined my discarded nightgown. He kissed the inside of my thigh, his mouth lingering just inches from where I wanted him most.

Then he was standing before me once more, towering above. I very nearly groaned. "Why must you tease me so?"

"Later," he murmured. "I promise."

I would have made a quip questioning how valid such a promise from the God of Mischief and Lies was, but he was too engrossed in stealing my breath away with a hungry kiss to hear it. Without parting from him, I reached out to undo the loose ties of his trousers, delighting in the sound of his sharp inhale. In seconds, the fabric was gone, heaped on the floor, together with every other article of clothing that previously hindered our touch.

We paused for the briefest of moments, standing opposite one another, both of us completely bare. Pulse racing, I treasured the sight of him, reaching out to run the tips of my fingers along the planes of his chest.

Bereft of preamble, his hands went to my hips, driving me harder into the doorframe. My breath hitched when he lifted me, fingers clenched beneath my thighs, guiding my legs to wrap around his waist, his lips finding mine once more.

Twining my fingers in his hair, I let my opposite hand trail across his shoulders, skimming the puckered scars on his back. He broke our kiss, his entire frame shuddering along the length of mine. A moan caught in my throat, my skin tingling, as he cupped my backside and pressed closer. My spine arched against the doorframe, hips bucking in anticipation.

Even so, before he could move any further, I placed my hands on either side of his face and drew back to meet his gaze. "Wait."

Despite the furrow of his brow, he did as I asked and grew still, save for the laborious rise and fall of his shoulders. Bathed in the moonlight, I regarded his features. His eyes were dark in the shadows, pupils blown so wide they almost consumed the blue entirely. I traced his brow with my fingertips, thumb brushing the end of his nose, the curve of his lips. I committed every little detail to memory: the feel of his cool skin upon mine; the quick but steady beat of his heart; the manner in which he looked at me, as if I were the most valuable thing in all the Cosmos.

"I don't ever want to forget this," I whispered.

He tried to smirk, but the shine of his eyes painted it in a sad light. "I'll make certain you don't."

Though I wanted to laugh at the intimation, my laughter died on my lips.

The last vestiges of humour in his expression faded, and one of his hands slid from my thigh to capture my hand. Gaze never leaving mine, he kissed the inside of my wrist, right beside my scar. "I love you. That is what I would have you remember."

My chest tightened as I fought to utter one last word in response. "Always."

In a heartbeat, he kissed me again, his hips slotted delectably between my thighs. I gasped at the feel of him, my head tipping back and hitting the doorframe.

Our lazy rhythm had me clinging onto Loki, never wanting to let go. He buried his face where my neck met my shoulder, peppering kisses along the soft, sensitive skin of my throat. Breathless, I clenched my legs around his waist, ghosting my fingertips over his back, focussing on him, only him, the sheer pleasure building between us in waves.

I let my worries of days past fade into the background. If these were truly our final days together, then I would savour every second I had with him. The gentle caress of his hands, the look in his eyes, the sound of his serrated breath when I rolled my hips—all of it had my desire mounting, heart thundering, body trembling. Even as I never wanted it to end, I matched his every move with an almost impatient eagerness, avid for the heated kisses we shared.

We indulged in one another, heedless of all our burdens.

Here and now, nothing in the entirety of the Nine Realms mattered except us.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you have a moment, please leave a review!

Until next time!


	15. Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:** We're in the home stretch now. There are only a few chapters left until the end!

* * *

 **FIFTEEN**

* * *

 _fire and ice_

* * *

 _Fire consumes all before me, bright and scorching and untameable. Those who stand against it are trampled under the heel of the flaming colossus. A great and powerful eddy rips through the atmosphere, tugging, pulling, its strength unparalleled. Even the fiery colossus cannot battle the current. A dark figure tumbles across the ground, dragged into the endless swirling depths. Terror resounds, a single note piercing the air._

 _Everything burns._

Eyes flying open, I jerked awake, gasping and desperate for air. I didn't even realize I'd sat upright until I blinked harshly in the sun, my hands straining from trying to tear apart the bedcovers in my lap. I could still feel the heat, the burning. The lingering sensation had me scratching and rubbing at my arms in some mindless attempt to put out the non-existent flames.

Loki was at my side in an instant, his cool fingers gentle upon my arm. "Eirlys! Stop it. It's all right. You're all right. It was a nightmare." Under his touch, I became aware that I was shaking—shivering despite the intense heat that flowed through me, searing me from the inside out.

He pulled me close, my head tucked beneath his chin. Shuddering, I pressed my cheek to his bare shoulder, the sound of his steady heartbeat offering some semblance of comfort. With one deep breath, and then another, I laid my hand on his chest, right where his scar lay. He tensed at my touch, but he did not recoil.

It was some time before my own heart steadied to match his. By that point, the churn of my thoughts had also subsided, allowing me a moment to recall what I'd seen. Flickers of the nightmare washed over me, brilliant and vibrant and so... real. I recognized that it was no mere nightmare. It was a vision. The first of its kind in many years. I sucked in a quavering breath and leaned back to look at him, my hand remaining over his heart.

"I think I saw something," I whispered.

His brow dipped, but I knew he understood.

I fought to cling onto what I'd witnessed, to conjure it to mind once more. The struggle to hold onto that which I'd seen in a vision had always been difficult to overcome. But this time... this time, I could sense it, right there, at the surface. Flashes of imagery. Sensations. Fear. _Death_. "Surtur is coming—he's coming right now. He will burn Asgard to the ground to obtain the Eternal Flame, and nothing will remain after that." My sight began to blur. "And there's..."

I shut my eyes, trying to recollect the rest of what I'd seen. But it was all slowly slipping from my mind, to be forgotten until the vision itself came to pass and it would be too late to stop whatever it was that instilled such terror in the very depths of my being. More terror than Surtur himself evoked, or so it seemed.

A knock on the sitting chamber door sounded, penetrating the still air. My heart leapt into my throat as I flew out of bed, taking the bed sheet with me, Loki's protests going unheeded. With one hand holding the sheet around my chest, I threw open the door, senseless and frenetic in the wake of my vision.

Thor stood on the other side of the door, eyes widening as soon as he beheld my lack of clothing. "Eirlys!" He turned away in some unconscious attempt at propriety, his cape a mad flurry at his back. Even so, my state of undress did not deter him from the purpose of his visit. "I bring grave tidings."

Forestalling his efforts to share those grave tidings, I spoke first, desperate to share what I'd seen before the vision faded further from my mind. "Surtur is marching on Asgard. I have seen it. We must evacuate the realm." Images of the battle filled my sight for the briefest of seconds, like reflections on a pane of glass. Everything burned. And yet, foremost, there was a field—a large field. There were not many large fields in Asgard. "He'll be attacking from the north."

No longer discomfited by my unclad form, Thor turned to look at me, blinking. "But Surtur's forces have unleashed their might upon Earth," he replied. "That is what I came here to tell you. The enemy has returned to London—the very city that lies in the heart of the Convergence."

My chest constricted at the thought of all the people still there. People we knew. Most of all, I was distinctly aware of where the true heart of his concern lay: _Jane Foster_.

"Surtur is using Midgard as a gateway to Asgard," Loki said, striding from the bedchamber with nothing but a gold-coloured throw hanging from his hips. Thor seemed to take an involuntary step backwards, but the awkwardness of our circumstance was quickly negated by the importance of our conversation. "There are numerous pathways that lead from Midgard to Asgard. The paths in London remain especially vulnerable due to the Convergence."

Thor clenched his jaw. "You mean the pathways you hid from everyone."

Loki returned his look with a sharp one. "And for good reason. Odin would have had them all sealed. They still had use to us."

"Use to you, perhaps," Thor retorted. "Now Surtur will lead his armies into our realm through those pathways."

"Stop, please," I said, withholding a sigh. "This is the fault of no one but Surtur. We best worry about him first."

Shoulders dropping, Thor glanced my way but refused to allow his gaze to linger for more than a second. "Then you should prepare for battle—one way or another, we will face Surtur's demons this day," he said. "Find us in the entrance hall. I must meet with Father there—he is overseeing the evacuation of our people as we speak."

I lifted a brow. "We have already begun an evacuation?"

"Surtur may be marching upon Midgard," Loki said, "but Asgard has always been his true goal. It is only a matter of time before he reaches this realm."

"Though a small blessing it may be, at the least, we have some form of forewarning this time." Thor's expression darkened, and I could easily surmise that his thoughts had turned to the Dark Elves and Frigga's death.

Loki loosed a chuff of laughter. "If we should fail, then it won't matter, in the end."

My heart sank at the notion. _If we should fail this day, then there will never be a tomorrow_. We would all burn.

Reacting in an equally unwarranted manner, Thor grinned. "Then we shall not fail."

While I believed his confidence bordered on ridiculous, I could not begrudge him for it. Where would we be without hope? Absent the thought of surviving what was to come, how else could we find it in ourselves to press onwards?

With nothing else to impart, Thor gave us both a deep nod and took his leave, disappearing down the empty corridor. Every last Einherjar who'd been standing guard had no doubt been rallied for the coming conflict. It seemed certain that Surtur would find his way to Asgard before the day was done. And perhaps it was better that way. Our actions led to this. Our actions had to end it, one way or another.

Rubbing at my brow, I shut the door and turned to face Loki, unsure of what to say or what to think.

In the light of the rising sun, his smirk took on an uncharacteristic gleam. "I do hope you enjoy slaying demons. It may be the last thing we do before we die."

I knew what he was doing. Diverting fears into snide remarks and smirks. Why let our final hours go by in a cloud of woe? With the shake of my head, I sauntered past him, letting my bed sheet fall as I went. A smile threatened to form on my lips when I caught a glimpse of the appreciative ogle he gave me.

But the playful mood seemed to end there.

Wordless, we equipped ourselves for battle. The more we prepared, the more I began to wonder how long the conflict would last. Hours? Days? Would it ever end? Could this be the last time in our lives that we would bear our armour and arm ourselves? These questions rattled about in my head as I buckled my breastplate, careful not to disturb the bandages on my arm. Lastly, I attached my white cloak—the midnight blue one having been lost in the Vestri Mines—and knotted the leather of my scabbard to my belt with as steady a hand I could muster.

Standing beside the bed, I laid out my bracers and paused to observe Loki. He was fully geared, lining his belt with weapon after weapon. I wanted to savour the sight of him in my bedchamber. I'd never had the chance to do so before I left for Alfheim, when we were parted for seventy years. Though perhaps knowing now felt worse. Knowing we might never return. Knowing we might never wake up together again, naked limbs entwined. I might never have another chance to tell him that I love him. My lips parted, the words settling on the tip of my tongue. But I didn't want to make this the last time. I didn't want to make this all so final.

Routine brought him to my side. Eyes downcast, he lifted one of my bracers to fasten the straps around my forearm. In the past, he'd teased me for my trouble with equipping bracers. It came to a point where he simply helped me every morning without needing to be asked. _This is no different_ , I told myself. _We will see battle after this day, as we always do_.

Once both bracers were equipped, I reached out to clasp his hands to keep him from drawing away. He stilled, his gaze meeting mine, brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. Our fingers twined, I revelled in the mere sensation of him: the coolness of his body so near to mine, the weight of his stare as he took all of me in. With a thick swallow, I inched closer and leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss.

He leaned into me, tilting his head to fit his mouth perfectly with mine. While his grip on my hands grew firm, the kiss was soft and sweet by comparison. Every brush of his lips was slow and deliberate, as if he were memorizing this. Memorizing me. His hands slipped from mine to curl around my waist, to draw me nearer, to hold my body to his. I swore I could feel his heartbeat, even through my armour. And I never wanted it to end.

When we parted at last, he rested his brow against mine. _Norns, please don't take this from me_.

Inevitably—reluctantly—we withdrew from one another.

His smirk made its return, though it lacked some of his usual mischief. "You haven't any idea how much I wish I could tear off all your armour and take you once more—especially after you so kindly paraded yourself in front of me." A warmth flooded me from head to toe, heat spiralling through my abdomen. "Alas, blood must be spilled. Demon blood, if we have any say. But, have no doubt, that image of you will be staying in my mind until we return to our bedchamber."

That he sounded so certain almost brought tears to my eyes. Instead, I put on a smile and swept my thumb over his mouth. "I will hold you to that," I murmured, leaning close to kiss him one last time.

We furnished ourselves with the last of our armaments—my shield and his spear—before we left our chambers and marched to war.

The entrance hall brimmed with Asgardians, Einherjar and evacuees alike. A din rose up, echoing throughout the towering chamber. Never had I seen so many people compressed into such a space. I had not even thought it possible for this grand chamber to be so crowded. Frigga would have fretted over the bustling discord, dedicating all of her energy to ushering the people to safety. The notion made me smile just a touch.

An endless stream of denizens filed through the entrance hall, exiting through the grand entrance to travel up the Rainbow Bridge. I slowed at the sight of familiar faces. Driana, Arlessa, and my former ladies-in-waiting passed us by. They spotted me in turn and began pushing back against the crowd in an attempt to reach me. I merely lifted a hand and shook my head. In seconds, they disappeared into the throng once more, any chance of saying farewell disappearing with them.

Finding Thor amidst the mayhem proved much simpler. Halfway up the grand steps, Thor stood alongside Sif, Fandral, and Hogun. Behind them, there remained a dozen Einherjar, prepared, perhaps, to assist us in any capacity we needed. Loki took hold of my hand then, guiding me through the river of people, his greater height and sterner visage compelling everyone to scurry out of his path.

Upon our approach, Fandral raised a brow, eyeing me and Loki and our entwined hands. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever grace us with your presence."

"With Surtur's forces mobilizing, Asgard has begun an evacuation," Sif said, her posture notably stiff. "Bàhn Modan has offered their stronghold as a refuge—one of the few places in the Nine Realms left untouched by demons."

I nodded. "Just as well. Surtur will strike at Asgard this day, one way or another."

Before anything further could be said, the swarm of people at the top of the grand steps parted like clouds after a storm. Odin All-Father strode into the entrance hall, appearing more powerful and dignified than he had in many days. He strode forward, Gungnir clacking on the marble floor with every step.

At the height of the stairs, the All-Father stopped and gazed upon us, his expression ever unchanging. He looked at Loki then, inclining his head. "I have shared our plans with Thor and Asgard's warriors. We shall not deviate from them, even as Surtur has unleashed the full breadth of his might upon Midgard."

Our friends' lack of reaction made me think they did not fully grasp the enormity of the task ahead. Or perhaps Odin withheld certain details involving the Netherverse. Most would have a passing understanding of the Netherverse, but far fewer understood the dangers of opening a breach in the universe—a breach we had no guarantee of closing. I said nothing of it, not wanting to stir debate at a time like this.

Odin nodded towards Loki. "We will have sorcerers on the battlefield should you be unable to wield the Aether upon your return."

Right then, I felt compelled to seize the opportunity to share the details of Surtur's coming. "All-Father, a vision came to me in the night." His brow lifted, but he did not attempt to interrupt. "Surtur will march upon the palace from the north. His demons will burn everything in their path."

Again, Odin gave a nod. "We shall bolster our defences on the northern front. Our efforts must be focussed on protecting the palace from assault and procuring the Aether from Malekith. No matter the dangers the rest of the Nine Realms face, we cannot stray from these objectives."

Thor tensed, but he did not seek to refute. I understood his unease. He was fond of Midgard, and every second we spent in search of Malekith meant the death of more humans. I thought, perhaps, it hurt more to know that we were in some way responsible for Surtur's rise. We'd allowed Malekith to take the Aether. We'd stood by and watched him raise Surtur from the ground. And now it was our responsibility to do whatever it took to halt the ending of all that we knew.

"However, we cannot leave Midgard undefended." Odin glanced at each of us. "The remaining Vanir warriors have volunteered to meet the enemy in battle before they reach the pathways to Asgard. A contingent of Einherjar will accompany them. Beyond that, I would have experienced warriors leading them."

Several of our group looked in Sif's direction. Her recent victory against Hakurei earned her a great deal of respect amongst the warriors of Asgard—they would surely not hesitate to follow her into battle. Nevertheless, she stood tall and shook her head. "It was my intention to assist Eirlys and Loki in their hunt for Malekith. At the least, Drekisbane may serve as an asset against the Aether."

"Then Hogun and I shall lead the defence of Midgard," Fandral said with an almost uncharacteristic firmness. "I'm certain your kinsmen will be rather glad to fight alongside you once more, Hogun."

Hogun's response was little more than a curt nod.

"Very well. Just prior to my arrival, I received word that Heimdall believes that he has located Malekith," Odin told us. Most of us bristled at these tidings, exchanging looks with narrowed eyes. For a full week, Malekith had made certain he could not be found, and now, of all days, he allowed himself to be seen. "Of course, Heimdall suspects Malekith's abrupt appearance to be a trap, and I am inclined to agree."

I loosed a heavy breath. "Another trap? One of these days, we're not going to be able to escape all these snares that we keep springing."

Sif arched a brow. "Let it not be this day."

"How can you be so certain that it is a trap?" Loki replied. "They would not proclaim to us the location of the Aether when Surtur knows what we are capable of."

Odin inclined his head. "Perhaps that is the risk they are willing to take, to lure you from the battlefield. Doubtless, they know that you must retrieve the Aether and the chance to strike at Malekith by his lonesome is one that cannot go ignored."

At that, Loki could not argue. No matter the circumstance, trap or not, we had to face Malekith.

"As Malekith continues to move through the realms, Heimdall will monitor his position and determine his final location," Odin said before turning to face me. "Lady Eirlys, I am of the opinion that you are best suited to wielding the Soul Stone. Protect it with your life and strike true."

From his belt, he proffered the amber stone, one end wrapped in leather to create a makeshift handle. The blade end of the stone was sheathed in a scabbard of the same pitch-black leather. I accepted it from him, somewhat hesitant. Never in my life did I think I would touch something so powerful as an Infinity Stone, let alone wield one. Along with the stone, he gave me a receptacle—more metal than glass—within which I was meant to store the Aether.

After a moment, I dipped my head. "I will not fail you, All-Father."

With little more than a nod, he pressed on, "I will remain here and prepare for our final strike against Surtur. He shall be banished from this plane of existence once and for all."

Save for Thor and Loki, our company bowed to Odin in assent.

As time was short, scarcely more than a farewell was given, and we left the All-Father to preside over the exodus of his realm.

A dozen Einherjar in tow, our company began to cross the length of the entrance hall. The journey to the grand entrance was slower than ever before. We were forced to shuffle along with hundreds of others, unable to push through even if we wished to. It did, however, allow us to encounter a group of healers, their charges, and one rather harried-looking Volstagg.

He was supporting himself with a pair of crutches, ones made of reinforced Asgardian steel, judging by the way they held up his weight with minimal trouble. The mere act of turning about seemed cumbersome, but I did not think a little inelegance would steal from Volstagg his independence. "Ah, my friends!" he exclaimed the moment he laid eyes upon us. "I was hoping to see to you off."

"I see you are a shepherd now," Fandral jested, nodding towards the healing room's inhabitants in his wake. Despite the jape, his eyes did not glimmer with mirth quite like they used to.

"Ah, yes, someone had to take on the challenge of organizing a score of healers and wounded warriors," Volstagg said, awkwardly revolving in place to survey the group of people behind him. "We shall be departing soon. Hildegund and the children will have already reached Nidavellir by now, I am sure."

The knowledge that his family was safe for the moment offered me some measure of comfort. Should we fail, however, it would not matter where anyone in the Nine Realms was. But being tucked away in Bàhn Modan did provide some form of protection. That was all that could be done.

Volstagg's regard passed over us all, lingering on our armaments especially. I sensed his greatest desire was to join us, to fight back against the fire, to do everything in his power to protect the Nine Realms and his family. Mere days ago, he would have been able to. But no longer.

"My friend." Thor stepped forth and dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "We shall see you soon, and we will partake in the finest ale we can find in Asgard's stores, celebrating our victory. The day will come when you may wield an axe again. Do not forget it."

Though there seemed to be some hesitance on his part, Volstagg beamed nevertheless. "I would never doubt any of you."

Loki lifted a sardonic brow. "Any of us?"

"Yes, Loki, even you. There is much that you fight for," Volstagg replied, his gaze flitting towards me for a mere heartbeat. "You will see this day through."

Thor smiled and nodded in return. "Indeed we shall."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I could speak one final time with my fellow healers—even the most dour of them—but time did not permit us to remain any longer. As we took our leave, my eyes met those of Marawen, her stern expression softening only just so. She turned away first, attending the patients around her, brusque and exacting as always. The torrent of evacuees drew the rest of us through the entrance hall until we reached the open doors that sent people spilling out onto the wide roads that would lead to the Rainbow Bridge.

Caravan after caravan circled round the front of the palace in a seemingly endless parade, herding aboard as many Asgardians as they could convey. A great number of them lost patience—or feared the coming danger—and simply began walking to the Bifrost on foot. Through it all, a dozen grooms pushed through the congregation, leading horses for each in our company, including the Einherjar in our wake.

They granted me a chestnut mare, the sight of which gave me pause. She reminded me of Winifred, although this mare was bereft of the white patches that made my own steed so distinct. At the least, that was how I remembered her. Winifred was long since dead. Like most things from my youth. Heaving a sigh, I mounted the horse, disregarding the aid offered by one of the grooms.

No command needed to be given. We rode from the palace at once, weaving through the countless people on the path to the Bifrost. On the bridge itself, the righthand side was lined with caravans filled with Asgardians escaping the realm. We kept just to the left of them, people hastening out of our path as we travelled down the bridge.

At the observatory, we were quick to dismount, leaving the horses on the Rainbow Bridge to either be taken back to the palace or forward to Nidavellir. Upon our approach, the observatory was in the midst of sending a group of evacuees to Nidavellir. We stood back and waited for the spinning to slow to a stop.

When we entered the Bifrost, Thor stopped by the foot of the steps leading to the pedestal while the rest of us circled the observatory. "What have you seen, Heimdall?"

"Though Malekith's ship remains hidden from my gaze, I have been able to identify their movements on land," Heimdall replied, staring straight through the observatory opening. "That Surtur and his forces have begun their march indicates that he has found enough of the Twilight Sword to reforge it and launch an attack upon us. Even so, the Dark Elves continue to excavate one last sword shard from deep beneath a bed of ice on Jotunheim."

At this, everyone in the observatory seemed to look in Loki's direction. He frowned but did not react beyond that.

"Ah, Jotunheim," Fandral said. "Our last visit didn't exactly warrant a return trip."

Loki responded with a sneer. "We're not going to give up a chance to kill Malekith just because we're a little abashed by what happened several years ago."

"Of course not," Fandral quipped. "But I for one will be glad to never set foot on that dreary piece of ice again."

Never one to waste time, Heimdall bowed his head to Thor and plunged his sword into the pedestal. "The Bifrost will take you to a canyon. Keep to the path. You shall find the Dark Elves due north."

Imparting a nod to Hogun and the Einherjar behind him, Fandral took a step back. "Then this is where we part ways. Midgard is calling."

Thor clasped forearms with Hogun. "Take care, my friends."

"We will not let harm come to the humans," Hogun vowed.

As Thor finished saying his farewells, I took my place between Loki and Sif at the aperture of the observatory. When I sensed Loki's steely gaze on me, our eyes met amidst the flicker of light. He offered a single reassuring nod that was made less effective by his shaky exhale. For all his past nerve, even he could not quite bury his trepidation. Swallowing past my own unease, I returned with a wavering smile.

Then, as always, we were gone in a flash.

The journey to Jotunheim was much like any other, save for the eddy of cold air travelling up through the Bifrost beam, colder than even the mountains of Nidavellir. Even with the chill funnelling up from the steel blue world, I was not prepared for the full brunt of it.

At first, the only sensation that struck me was the sheer, agonizing cold. I clutched my arms around myself in a feeble attempt to preserve my warmth, the wind screaming past us. Pulling my hood over my head shielded me from the snow but little else. The lands of Jotunheim could scarcely be called land at all. It was ice from the heights of the cliffs surrounding us to the deep canyon floor that stretched ahead. Ice crumbled in the distance, sending a rumbling echo throughout.

I glanced around at my companions to assess their wellbeing. It was difficult to perceive anything in the gloom. Not a speck of sunlight touched this realm. Where the light was coming from, I could not be certain. It was, however, just enough for me to see Thor move to the fore of our group. He said nothing for a time, loosing only a heavy breath.

Loki strode forth to stand beside him, surveying the sky in an attempt to determine which direction was north. His expression hardened when he glanced at his brother. "Let's go."

Ice and snow crunched far too loudly beneath our boots as we walked. The canyon we ventured through widened and narrowed again, the walls seeming to close in around us. It branched out to other paths to our left and right, all of which led out of the canyon via steep inclines. Those paths went ignored. We kept to the passage that would take us northward, our pace quickening with every passing second.

Thor and Loki remained in the lead, ever watchful, their heads turning left and right. After a time, Loki peered back at us over his shoulder. "We're being followed."

His gaze darted upwards, and we looked to see the outlines of several Jotuns high above, leaning over the edge of the canyon. Some of them would disappear from sight then reappear, shadowing us as we went. Waiting for an opportune moment.

"You don't suppose they would let us be if we explained that Ragnarök would destroy everything—including them—if we should be hindered in the slightest," I remarked.

Loki gave me a skeptical look and scoffed. In my mind, it sounded as though he were scoffing at my _optimism_. "If only it were so simple."

"In my experience, Jotuns have never been rational thinkers," Sif quipped. Loki lifted a brow at her but said nothing when she detached Drekisbane from her shield. "We should face them here and now. They'll be a meagre challenge by themselves. Alongside the Dark Elves, there is no knowing what might happen."

In turn, I lay a hand on my scabbard, though I chose not to draw for fear of inciting violence. Not that it would have made much of a difference—they were no doubt seeking a fight one way or another. "What are they waiting for?"

Loki came to a halt, reaching for his throwing knives. "To surround us."

Before we could press further together to protect ourselves on all sides, something massive and cold slammed into me from behind, knocking me to the ground. Pushing myself up by the heels of my hands, I looked back to see a Frost Giant towering over me, taller than I'd ever imagined. I'd never seen a Jotun in person—Loki notwithstanding; but he could hardly be considered a Jotun.

A handful of throwing knives soared through the air, striking the Frost Giant in the chest and throat, killing him in an instant. As the dead giant collapsed with a dull _thud_ , Loki knelt over me to survey my wounds. I was slow to realize the Jotun had struck me in the back of the arm, perhaps aiming for my side. The wound bled little, for my skin was near frozen, the flesh too numb to feel the pain.

Without saying a word, Loki proffered his hand and helped me to my feet. Upon seeing the Frost Giants sliding down the sheer canyon walls, I did not hesitate to unsheathe my sword. Thor and Sif had their weapons at the ready, and we pressed our backs to one another, prepared to face the encroaching enemy.

A dozen Frost Giants landed around us, blades of ice encompassing their arms, red eyes blazing. Loki, quick as ever, made the first attack, killing another with a dagger thrown to the face. The resounding roar from the Jotuns seized my heart, but it did not keep me from taking action.

I stumbled backwards and ducked an icy weapon, the sharp end missing me by mere inches. Against the Jotuns, I had a few advantages: I was smaller and quicker, and they could not keep pace. Sidestepping, I darted beneath my adversaries' arm before stabbing upwards with Silvertongue. My sword sliced between ribs, piercing his heart if the sudden river of blood gliding down my blade was any indication. Grimacing at the sight, I grit my teeth and pulled the sword free, the Frost Giant falling dead before me.

"Eirlys!"

Eyes wide, I glanced back in time to see Thor leap in front of me to block a stream of icicles using the side of Mjolnir. He retaliated by throwing the mythical hammer, which ran down the Frost Giant in the blink of an eye.

Before Mjolnir could even return to his grasp, I caught a glimpse of another Frost Giant charging at him from behind. Crouching beneath his extended arm, I cast my magic, a bright burst of blue powerful enough to knock the Jotun right off his feet. The ache of my magic lingered, making me falter for the briefest of moments. While I missed the opportunity to dispatch the Jotun myself, Sif turned at the abrupt blast and stabbed downwards, slicing the throat of our fallen foe.

As soon as Mjolnir returned to his hand, Thor grinned down at me. "Many thanks, my friend." Even in so dire a time, the heat of battle seemed to bring him some semblance of merriment.

He left my side to relieve Loki of at least one of the Frost Giants he was currently battling by his lonesome. I perceived some restraint in his wielding of Mjolnir, which was perhaps out of the fear that the full extent of his might would bring the whole canyon down upon us. Even so, the Frost Giants did not survive long against our company. Their group proved to be rather few in number— _a scouting party_ , I suspected.

"We should hurry," Sif said, stepping over the corpses of our enemies. "Greater numbers will surely follow."

"Agreed." Loki knelt to retrieve several bloodied throwing knives and returned them to his belt. "Of course, they will also be all the more eager to kill us now that we've trespassed and murdered their brethren."

Thor strode past him, shaking his head. "After what you did, I doubt they could ever be _more_ eager to slay us."

At that, Loki cast him a dark look. "You speak as though you played no hand in it."

"You were the one who brought the Frost Giants into Asgard."

"And you overreacted just as I expected you would."

As Thor moved to continue the dispute, I stepped in, gripping Loki's arm tight and pressing him forwards. "Could you please argue about this when we are well out of mortal danger?"

At my urging, we started off at a run, dodging and weaving between shattered pieces of ice. More fell around us, like hail raining from above, and I glanced upwards to see Frost Giants attempting to outpace us. My stomach overturned when I realized they just might. With their larger frames and greater familiarity with their home world, they were better able at navigating its terrain. It would only be a matter of time before they closed in on us.

I pushed myself to run faster, my lungs struggling to function in such cold air. To my relief, I soon spotted the slope that would guide us from the depths of the canyon. "We're nearly there."

"I cannot determine their numbers," Sif exclaimed, shielding her head to block a falling shard of ice. "We will have no chance of making it through this if we do not lose them immediately."

"I have an idea." Thor slowed, falling to the back of the group to match Sif's pace. "Sif and I can lead them away while you find Malekith."

As Loki and I looked back at the two, Sif gave a nod in assent. "We will lead them westward to ensure they lose your trail. From there, we can take flight and rejoin you once we elude them. Loki, I trust you know what to do."

Loki glanced between them, brow raised. "For once, we actually agree on something."

"I know." Somehow, Sif conjured the humour to smile. "That's how we know Ragnarök has truly begun."

With a scoff, Loki gestured them away. "Be quick about it. The illusion won't last long."

In seconds, we exited the canyon, the roaring winds picking up around us. Once our party split in two, Loki cast the illusion, our images following close behind Thor and Sif. The Frost Giants did not hesitate to make chase, never taking notice of either Loki or me despite the fact that we remained standing at the end of the canyon path.

Thor and Sif turned left and hastened beneath the hanging ice formations, disappearing around a corner with the Frost Giants in tow. Swallowing thickly, I sent a prayer after them before Loki and I continued forth. We climbed a series of frozen stairs, snow and ice crackling beneath our footsteps. I was reassured only by the thought that no one else was present to hear them.

At the height of the stairs, we came to a flat landscape. It was bare, save for the columns and arches of ice holding more icicles aloft. The ground grew flatter and wider as we went on, and it was not long before we caught sight of the Dark Elves' ship. That it was uncloaked further proved that this was all an attempt to trap us prior to Surtur's final siege of Asgard. But, in this, we had no choice. We needed to retrieve the Aether, regardless of whether or not Malekith was expecting us.

The ship loomed over Jotunheim, dark and foreboding. I had to wonder if the Frost Giants had even taken notice of the Dark Elves' presence. It seemed doubtful when they'd been so eager to quarrel with us. Why enter into conflict with the enemy of their enemy?

"Stop here." Loki darted towards a colossal column of ice, so dark and solid that I was curious to know if there was stone underneath. "For the first time since this all started, I see there is a benefit to the Twilight Sword shards being ludicrously heavy."

Peering around the column, I discerned six Dark Elves struggling to lug a shard of the Twilight Sword towards their ship. Their steps were slow, the massive weight forcing them to drag the shard through ice and snow. Another group of four appeared to be patrolling the area around them, their backs to us.

"I assume you have a plan," I said to Loki.

A faint smile graced his features. "Of course. Would you ever think otherwise?"

Brow raised, I rested the point of my sword on the ground. "Well?"

"Although the Dark Elves cannot be deceived by any cloaking spell of mine, they would not be able to see through my illusions. We will kill two of them"—he motioned towards the patrol of four—"and take their places to board the ship with those that remain."

I pressed my lips together for a moment, considering his plan, searching for flaws or better options. But we did not have the time to deliberate any further. "If you can get me close to Malekith, I can extract the Aether from him."

Loki chuckled. "If only everything were as simple as you make it."

Stomach twisting, I took in an unsteady breath. "Then we best start. They'll reach the ship any moment now."

Loki didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed hold of my arm and towed me from behind the column.

"We must kill them swiftly and silently," Loki muttered to me hastily. "One laceration across the neck. Do you understand?"

My only response was a nod.

We dashed into the open, the gloom lessening as we did so. Crouching, I withdrew a dagger from my boot while Loki pulled one from his belt. The Dark Elves on patrol were moving slow enough for us to reach them with ease, our footsteps muted by a fresh layer of snow. The group of four walked a ways behind the half-dozen conveying the sword shard. At the rear of the group, a pair of Dark Elves seemed to be moving at a more sedate pace. They made themselves the obvious targets.

Words needn't be exchanged between Loki and me. We simply hurried forth in tandem, blades in hand. One of the Dark Elves turned his head, as if hearing our approach, but he did not react fast enough. I clamped my hand over the mouth of his mask, smothering any warning he might have given his companions. With a single cut to the throat, from artery to artery, I slew him, his lifeblood spattering along my arm. Beside me, Loki did the same.

Bile rose in my throat, but I carried on and followed Loki's lead, dragging the Elf's body behind a pillar of ice. We left both Elves there before hastening after the remaining two, illusions in place. Loki and I shared a glance. He looked precisely as the Dark Elves had, a white mask shielding his expression, his eyes black as the void. I imagined I must have appeared the same.

Despite being unable to communicate, we moved in synchrony, walking several feet behind the other two Elves of 'our' patrol. Beyond them, the Dark Elves were bringing the sword shard aboard the ship. If this quest proved successful, we had a chance of destroying another shard—always a favourable outcome, even as I questioned what use they had for it now that Surtur was marching on Asgard. Still, it was not our true aim. We were here to take the Aether and kill Malekith. We would have Frigga's death avenged. I would have my father avenged.

As we neared the ship, I realized it was almost identical to the one we'd come across on Svartalfheim days ago, the very ship we'd suspected belonged to Nalak long before he became a clan leader. It made sense now, that Nalak had intended to take his ship into hiding just as Malekith had, but a malfunction tore Nalak from the skies, forcing him to awaken long before his brother.

Once the Dark Elves ahead of us strode up the ramp to enter the bottom, the door closed behind them. In moments, the lift transported them upwards into the body of the ship. Standing back to await our turn, we held still, so still that I did not dare glance sideways for fear of rousing suspicion.

It was several minutes before the lift returned for us. Stomach churning, I stepped in after the Dark Elves and stared straight ahead when the door began to close. My fingers itched to reach out to Loki, but I refrained, keeping my hands clenched at my sides. With a steadying breath, I peered down at myself to ensure that Silvertongue and the Soul Stone were hidden from view. When I lay my hand whey they should have been, I could feel both of them there. At that, I allowed myself a small smile.

The lift soon came to an abrupt stop, the door opening before us. The inside of the ship was as expected, dark and gloomy, albeit illuminated by faint blue lights and red writing on the walls. We marched from the lift together but spread out the further we moved.

Panic struck me, fear seeping down to the very tips of my fingers, making them tremble. If I were addressed to, I would not be able to respond, for my voice would not match my appearance at all. Pushing past my unease, I forced my legs to keep moving, staying as close to Loki as possible. A few Dark Elves glanced my way, and my panic swelled. I surmised I was meant to return to whatever my post would have been if I were actually the Elf I was posing as.

That was when I caught sight of Malekith. Cloaked in black, he stood beneath the archway that led to the star map. The figure beside him also bore a black cloak, the hood hiding any discernible features—an unexpected and potentially dangerous variable in what was already a difficult task.

I had to remind myself to breathe. No one else on this bridge was of any consequence in that moment. We simply needed to draw nearer to Malekith with the Soul Stone. Everything else, we could deal with afterwards. There was no turning back now.

Loki and I crossed the bridge, passing a column that contained a softly glowing beam of light. The Dark Elves hefted the sword shard into the beam where it floated precisely between the ceiling and the floor. The instant it was in place, the ship seemed to shudder, as though it were coming to life.

Right then, a Dark Elf, yards ahead, shouted at me and gestured across the bridge, "Drakkon!" The rest of what he uttered was unintelligible to me. Ancient Dark Elvish was not a language typically taught to... anyone, really. From what he said, only one word caught my ear: Muspelheim. _He's given me a command_ , I realized. _To set a course for Muspelheim?_

Knowing better than to speak, I nodded to the Dark Elf and took a single step closer to Loki. I grasped the invisible Soul Stone and pressed it into his hand before drifting from his side. With a thick swallow, I followed the Elf's instruction and headed to the opposite side of the bridge. A screen embedded in an angled panel seemed to be my destination.

I leaned over it, making my hands into fists to keep them from shaking, my eyes darting aimlessly around the screen. In seconds, I knew it was a galaxy map, runes of the archaic Dark Elf language marking every planet. My inability to understand the map did not prevent me from spotting Muspelheim. The large red world certainly stood out among the rest.

The path they'd plotted out made less sense, however. A dark blue world glowed brighter than the rest—Jotunheim, presumably. Our course was to take us further south where the map then indicated that we would venture through the southern continent of Vanaheim. _Ah, of course_. They intended to harness the power of the sword shard to open the lingering rifts between worlds. _That must be why they need this shard_.

Perhaps they intended to funnel greater numbers of demons through the paths to Asgard. The shard would expedite matters, flooding Asgard far faster than we could contend with. And yet it seemed Surtur could not wait for Malekith to complete his task. He had no choice but to strike now, else the Convergence pass further, closing the paths to them for another five thousand years. That was why Malekith was here now, and not with Surtur on the battlefield.

Of course, there was still the possibility that this was all a trap. Were the Dark Elves expecting us to intervene? Or was the mere diversion enough? Jumping worlds with the assistance of a sword shard was a shrewd way of ensuring that we could not follow. They could've left us on Jotunheim to fend off Frost Giants in some desperate attempt to chase the Dark Elves down. Looking down at the machine I hadn't any idea how to operate, I thought of diverting the ship. But... surely they would notice. I could scarcely fathom what I had been ordered to do. My hesitation might have already roused suspicion as it was.

Two square buttons glowed bright red just beneath the screen. Biting on the inside of my cheek, I pressed the top button.

The ship shuddered and elevated, or so I judged from the rapid drop of my stomach. It seemed to be the correct action to take, for every single one of the Dark Elves commenced their duties. I looked around at every being on the bridge, counting ten in total. There was also Malekith, who may have been worth ten more. And the cloaked figure beside him, who could have been just as sinister.

Through the shadows of the ship, I sought Loki—or the Dark Elf I suspected to be Loki. He approached Malekith from behind, gradual and silent.

When Loki reared his fist, the cloaked figure shifted first. "Oh, how predictable you are."

Loki brought the Soul Stone downwards, and Malekith whirled about, seizing his wrist just inches from his chest. The Aether flared, slamming into Loki, sending him flying backwards. He hit the far wall with a _bang_ , collapsing in a heap.

Several pairs of eyes turned towards me, and I knew immediately.

The illusion had fallen.

Before I could move even an inch, the cloaked figure disappeared in a brilliant flash. I brought up my shield to block a blade seconds after another green flicker filled my vision. The very instant I lifted my head, I found the glowing red eyes of Amora staring back at me.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you're able, please take a moment to leave a review!


	16. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Author's Note:** Hello dear readers! Sorry for the long wait; life has been a hectic mess, but here we are now, rushing headlong towards the end.

These next few chapters are going to be very long as well. Enjoy!

* * *

 **SIXTEEN**

* * *

 _in your heart shall burn_

* * *

My eyes narrowed upon meeting those of Amora.

Bracing my shield arm, I threw all my weight forwards, the force behind the movement making her stumble back. As she sought her footing, I drew my sword and steeled myself for the battle to come. She was still too quick for me to land a blow, teleporting to and fro, vanishing just as my sword cut through the space she'd been occupying. Even so, she was not able to completely overwhelm me. For all her speed and cunning, I'd become accustomed to her tricks.

I knew how she moved and fought. She thought she could catch me unawares by teleporting into my blindspots, but after the first few times she'd done it deep beneath Bàhn Modan, I came to expect it. I moved constantly, escaping most of her onslaught even as she continued to materialize behind me second after second. All the same, I could not wholly evade her attacks, her blade grazing the skin on my forearm a mere inch from where my burn scar lay.

"You must stop this, Amora!" I shouted over the growing clamour. "We have to end this. You have to break Surtur's hold over you! This was never what you wanted, was it?"

Her response was another swipe at my face, and I knew she was already too far gone.

When I started straining for breath, I suspected that she meant to tire me out. And I feared that she could accomplish such a feat quite easily. Not only had the days had been trying on me, but her magic seemed to know no bounds—whether it was a product of the shard embedded in her heart or her natural ability, I could not say. It did not, however, keep me from using my own magic.

In a flash, she appeared just as I predicted she would. Instead of lifting my metal shield, I splayed my hand and flung a blast of magic at her, sending her flying across the bridge. The use of magic made my hand tingle unpleasantly, an itchy feeling under my skin that I did my best to ignore.

For a brief moment, I paused, surveying the Dark Elves that remained at their posts, keeping their ship on course. Two more of them lingered nearer to me, weapons in hand, albeit reluctant to approach. My pride would have me believe that they feared me. In actuality, they were anticipating a strike that I was too slow to evade.

Through the darkness of the ship's bridge, I saw little more than a blood red light rushing towards me, slamming into me like a Midgardian train. I collided with the hull of the ship, my head snapping back to hit the metal hard enough to send stars bursting across my vision. My strength seemed to leave my body as I slumped to the ground, struggling to see Malekith striding towards me. Behind him, Loki lay prone, trying desperately to rise on shaky arms. I thought perhaps a flash of green flickered beside him, but my attention was yanked away by Malekith's approach.

 _How could we ever hope to face a being who wields an Infinity Stone_ _with such ease_ _?_

Speed was all I had at my disposal. I held my shield above my head and ducked to the left, narrowly avoiding a blast of red.

"You are even greater fools than I believed if you think you can defeat us." Malekith loomed over me with the Aether flaring around him like peculiar appendages. "Your every effort is futile."

Heart wedged in my throat, I brought my hands together, energy crackling between my palms. "Our enemies always seem to say that, and yet we still remain."

My magic flared, the searing blue lighting even the darkest of corners. Thrusting out my hands, I loosed a blast at Malekith. Red met blue, the combined power erupting in the centre of the bridge, flinging everyone backwards.

The air left my lungs in one great rush. As I tumbled across the bridge, I caught a glimpse of Malekith impacting a glowing red column, his weight indenting the metal. The moment I came to a halt, still on the ground, I tightened my grip on my sword, desperate not to mislay my most valuable weapon.

I was the first to rise, searching the gloom for Loki. He too staggered to his feet, dagger in one hand, Soul Stone in the other. Without ever slowing, he killed the lone Dark Elf that dared meander in his way before stalking towards Malekith. Turning in place, I aimed to seek out Amora, but it was not Amora that I found.

My heart seized at the sight of two Dark Elves barrelling towards me. Unable to bring up my sword in time, I brought up my shield to deflect the first strike. With his blade locked against the metal, the Dark Elf rammed the hilt of his weapon into my shoulder, the strength behind it enough to send me sprawling to the ground.

Flipping his blade round, he aimed for my throat and stabbed downwards. Again, I shielded my head, the sound of metal hitting metal reverberating in my ears. This time, I reacted quicker than my opponent. Before he could readjust his footing to press his assault, I lunged, grimacing as Silvertongue perforated his abdomen, coating the blade in blood.

As I rose to my feet, I extracted my sword from his corpse and turned about to seek the second Dark Elf. His target had not been me at all, it appeared. He stood at the control panel I'd attempted to operate earlier, his hands flying across the screen. With a heavy breath, I gripped my sword tight and rushed at him. But I soon faltered, my eyes widening, when he pressed one final button and grasped the nearest handhold.

The ship tilted abruptly, sending me off balance. With my breath strangled in my throat, I scrambled to cling onto the nearest column, the blood on my hands making my fingers slick. Holding fast, I caught a brief glimpse of Loki and Malekith on the opposite side of the bridge. Despite the sudden agitation of the ship, Malekith did not falter. He struck out at Loki with the Aether, a surge of black and red energy barrelling through all that stood in its path. But Loki proved swift, eluding each of his attacks, the incline of the bridge of no concern to him in the slightest.

After a moment, the ship righted itself, granting me proper footing once more. The Dark Elf at the control panel turned to face me, readying the weapon in his hands with some uncertainty. _He is no warrior_ , I thought. Before I could think to take a step towards him, the telltale prickle along the back of my neck warned me of Amora's incoming attack.

Jaw clenched, I felt the adrenaline surging through me, driving me. I pivoted on my heel and blocked her first attack, then ducked the second. With all my might, I swung my shield back, aiming for my blindspot a mere moment before Amora appeared there. She cried out when my shield collided with her face, the resounding _crack_ indicating what was surely a broken nose. I spun to my right a split second later, parrying another swipe from her blade. Heart thundering, I turned sideways to avoid receiving a knife to the back of my neck.

Amora teleported to stand in front of me, glaring through the shadows with her red eyes, blood dribbling from her nose. _A change of tactics_. She charged at me, teleporting back and forth, as if to confuse me. But, as soon as she came to a rest on my left, I launched a flash of light into her eyes. Again, she gave a shout and staggered back, hands covering her face.

The Dark Elf that remained behind me sought to take advantage of my momentary distraction. He hastened towards me, yet was still too slow to land a blow. I sidestepped and grabbed his sword arm, averting his blade, before lancing through his heart. My sword sliced through armour and flesh, killing him in an instant. I clenched my teeth, pulling Silvertongue free to jab at Amora at my fore. She teleported away, the tip of my blade missing her by an inch.

In that moment of stillness, I watched as four Dark Elves moved in to surround me. Behind them, another two had not once deviated from their posts. None had bothered to advance towards Loki. He and Malekith were locked in battle, a dozen of his illusions doing little more than holding Malekith's attention. It was becoming increasingly clear that striking down the one who wielded the Aether was going to require more than we could offer.

The sudden resounding _CREAK_ of metal made everyone start, and we all turned about at once to seek the source of such a sound. A blade had punctured the hull of the ship from the outside, tearing the sheets of dark steel apart. It dragged upwards, to the side, then back down. In the next moment, the silver blade pulled back, disappearing from view.

With a sharp inhale, I staggered back just before two figures burst through the cutout. An unmistakeable pair went crashing into a Dark Elf that had been standing a touch nearer to the hull than he should have been.

Together, Sif and Thor clambered to their feet, weapons at the ready.

"Thor!" I had to shout over the blustering cold winds of Jotunheim. "Help him!"

He didn't need to ask what I meant. At that very second, Loki collided with a ship console, a shower of sparks chasing away the shadows for the briefest of moments. Without hesitation, Thor wound up Mjolnir and soared headfirst across the bridge, slamming into Malekith. Amora rejoined the fray right then, her blade meeting that of Loki.

I would have entered into conflict with Amora, but my attention was seized by the five Dark Elves who sought to impede Sif and me. Even the ones who'd been reluctant to leave their posts counted amongst our contenders now. They situated themselves between us, their swords glinting in the faint light filtering through the breach in the hull. It occurred to me that they did not wield firearms or implosive devices as their fellows had on Asgard and Svartalfheim. _A limited supply_ , I surmised.

Of course, that fact was of little consequence, considering their leader now wielded the Aether itself.

Unfurling from Malekith's hands, a large blast of the Aether rattled the entire ship. Thor and Loki went flying in different directions, crashing through various parts of the ship. In that moment of interference, the Dark Elves around us were quick to press their advantage.

I clumsily blocked a sword with a downwards swipe of my own, albeit one second too late. The point that was meant for my abdomen sliced down my leg instead. Leather and skin tore, blood trickling from the wound. I grimaced at the pain but refused to allow it to hinder me.

Despite my initial awkward parry, I still managed to hook my foot around my adversary's ankle and rid him of his steady footing. With an elbow to his face, he hit the ground just in time for me to block the sword of another Elf. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sif dispatch two more Dark Elves. It was a flurry of motion thereafter.

We both seemed to elude and parry our foes in tandem. I sidestepped and dropped to a crouch, withdrawing a small blade from my boot. With my foe standing above me, I stabbed deep into his foot. The sudden pain dazed him, and I ran him through. As he fell, the last among the Dark Elves who dared to face us made to strike at me.

My sword met his, the clang ringing in my ears. Canting my head, I met Sif's gaze. I gave a nod before propelling my opponent towards her. Once he was within reach, she yanked his head back by his stark white hair and skewered him through the chest.

As she extracted Drekisbane from our dead foe, her gaze flickered to something over my shoulder, eyes widening. "Get down!"

Shoving me to the ground, Sif dropped to one knee seconds before Thor soared overhead, colliding with the wall to my right with a mighty _CRACK_. Across the bridge, Malekith loomed over Loki, the dark energy of the Aether rebuilding between his hands. Reacting ever faster than I, Sif rose up and rushed headlong into battle. With a jab from Drekisbane, she diverted Malekith's attention long enough for Loki to climb to his feet.

In turn, I scrambled to assist only to find a bright green barrier forming in my path, stopping me in my tracks. Through the translucent wall, I caught a brief look of Sif and Loki fighting Malekith together, both quick enough to evade his onslaught but not effective enough to land a blow.

A flash of light from behind me drew my attention away from them. I gripped my sword tight, knowing full well that Amora was preparing to attack again. She could no longer be swayed by words. Brute force was all that remained.

Twirling in place, I swung wide just to see Amora teleport away. Thor did not hesitate to act, throwing Mjolnir straight at her, electricity crackling as it went. In the blink of an eye, she vanished, and the legendary weapon struck her barrier, the combined energy flaring in the dark so brightly that it left spots in my vision.

On instinct, I took a deep breath and reached out with my magic, sensing more now than I could days ago. I sensed the resonant magic of Amora's barrier, sensed its connection to the source. Sensed _her_. My brow cinched when I realized I could distinguish where Amora would appear a split second before she did. And perhaps it was the sword sliver embedded in her heart that gave her such a distinct magical signature, the energy unruly and unnatural.

She materialized in front of me, to my left, to my right, and tried to take me by surprise by teleporting behind me once more. A prickle ran along my skin every time she did so, her every move proclaimed to my senses before she made it. I parried her attacks and brandished my shield, meeting her blade with less and less effort. For all her power and speed, she could not match my skill with a weapon—paltry as mine was.

Though she never slowed, she seemed to realize that there had been a shift in our conflict, for she withdrew and concentrated her efforts on Thor instead. As mighty as Thor was, he could not keep pace with Amora. Immense strength propelled every swing of his hammer. All the same, he was unable to land a single blow, his attacks hitting everything but her.

Sparks flew from a console he struck, bits of debris flying out of the hole Sif tore in the hull of the ship. As he made chase, never slowing, he called out to her, "We haven't always been enemies, Amora. You don't have to fight us."

She could not heed his words even if she wanted to. Surtur had fully entrenched his will in her mind now. Even so, she had some semblance of her willpower, considering the barrier she'd constructed between us and Malekith, Sif, and Loki. It was a calculated measure. She hoped to keep Thor and me occupied—together, the two of us could have stood a better chance against Malekith. Amora, on the other hand, was too swift—too artful—for a frontal assault. What we needed was something far more powerful than I was capable of. Far more mighty.

"Thor!" I strained to be heard over the screech of wind, the cold air burning its way through my throat and lungs. "You must strike her down!"

Although I spoke with deliberate ambiguity, he seemed to know exactly what I meant.

The air in the ship buzzed and crackled. A prickling heat danced along my skin, tickling my nose with every breath I breathed. In such an enclosed space, Thor would have minimal control over the lightning he summoned. I cringed, well aware that the prickle would become a sting, followed by an overwhelming agony. I'd had enough experience with being struck by electricity to know what it felt like. And it was that knowledge that had me dropping on one knee, casting the strongest barrier I could over myself.

With my head down, all I heard was an earsplitting _CRACK_ , after which an immense _BOOM_ sounded, vibrating my entire being in spite of the barrier I'd erected to protect myself. The brightest flash of white filled my vision, overtaking even the glare of blue surrounding me. Eventually my barrier gave way to the sheer power behind the charge, and my skin tingled from the last few tendrils of energy.

When I looked up, I spotted Thor first, bracing himself against the wall, smoke rising from his shoulders. Though he had some resistance to the lightning he wielded, he was not entirely immune to its effects. Neither was Amora, for that matter.

Her barrier had dissipated, no longer separating us from Sif and Loki as they battled Malekith. But our attention could not leave Amora just yet. She'd become the pest that we were forced to swat over and again, oblivious to the aggravation she caused. Eyes glazed and unseeing, she lay sprawled on the ground, specks of blood covering her face and her head.

Though my breath eluded me and my legs felt weak, I staggered to my feet and urged myself forwards to loom over Amora. Brow cinched, I grasped her throat and lifted my sword, allowing it to hover inches above her torso. She blinked up at me, the glowing red in her eyes dwindling away, her dazed expression fading into coherence. The dagger in her hand clattered to the ground before she reached up to seize the sharp end of Silvertongue and pressed it to her heart.

"Do it," she rasped. "Kill me."

I drew back. As I did so, she tightened her grip on my sword. "You've regained control," I said. "I will not kill you if I do not have to."

Eyes narrowed, Amora breathed heavily through her broken nose, the sound of it wet and grotesque. "You will have to. Surtur has rooted himself in my mind. When I lose control again, I will not stop until his command is fulfilled."

Hesitating, I shook my head. "There must be some way to reverse it."

Amora laughed, familiar mockery tingeing her voice. The sadness that ran beneath it, however, was out of the ordinary. "Don't you think I've already tried."

Then she blinked. Her gaze lost focus. Red overtook the green in her eyes. When she lifted her hand, palm facing towards me, blood rushed to my head, pounding through my skull. I recoiled and, clutching my sword with both hands, I plunged. Steel slid through flesh and bone all too effortlessly. My heart plummeted as I pierced hers.

Eyes wide, I knelt beside her, hand hovering in some fruitless bid to undo what I'd done. "Amora—"

"Don't—" She coughed, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth to mingle with the blood from her nose. Her gaze cleared, locking firmly on the ceiling above. Life was seeping away, but she did not seem to give it much mind. "Don't you dare pity me."

I frowned, a shadow casting over the both of us. When I raised my head, I saw Thor standing over us. He didn't say anything. He did little more than stare, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath and regain his strength. Returning my regard to Amora, I gripped my sword once more and removed it from her chest in the hopes it would hasten her passing.

At that, Amora smiled. "I always wanted to resent you for... all your fortune. Your friends. Your family. But I must say... I am rather glad to end it... so you have my thanks." Another cough wracked her frame, and she shuddered as her eyes became glassy and unseeing. "At the least, I can... I can be with my family..."

She blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then never again.

For the first time in many years, the taking of a life weighed on me. She was not some nameless, faceless enemy. Neither was she a friend. In fact, I daresay I despised her. Some part of me understood her. She'd helped save Loki's life in the wake of the Tesseract explosion. And I pitied her just as she once claimed to pity me.

Loosing a breath, I clambered to rise, blood dripping from my sword. Thor stood frozen beside me, looking down upon Amora with glistening eyes. I did not think Thor considered her a friend either, but he had known her since youth. It was not an easy thing to bear witness to. After a fleeting moment, he outstretched his hand, calling Mjolnir to his side once more.

He glanced my way, expression grim. "Let us end this."

Together, we turned to seek Malekith and found Sif and Loki occupying him still, albeit with increasingly strained effort. Sif ducked an attack while Loki darted forth, the Soul Stone in his right hand. In the face of all their speed and agility, Malekith had endless power at his fingertips, blasting them back when they neared. He never seemed to have the energy to loose a burst in both directions at once, instead having to rely on more precise strikes—which weren't entirely precise at all.

I gripped Silvertongue close and dodged a blast he intended for Sif. Slipping between two thin streams of the Aether, I charged at Malekith. From two feet away, I noticed the scratches and dents in his armour—Sif and Loki _had_ been landing blows against him. And as I swung downwards with my sword, metal meeting dark energy, I came to realize that he must have been shielding his entire form with the Aether. Perhaps the Soul Stone was the only weapon that could breach his defences.

Stepping back, I peered through the black and red that flew around us and spotted Loki. His every attempt to near Malekith was thwarted far faster than the rest of us. Malekith actually had to raise a hand to block his attacks. The only other instance that required him to take more physical action was when Thor hurled Mjolnir, forcing Malekith to bat it aside. We shrank back the moment he did so, the crackle of lightning and power from the Aether creating a disconcerting rush of unpredictable energy.

In the few seconds he went unhindered by any of us, he seemed to muster even more of the Aether than he had before. Heart near stopping, I threw out my hand to impede his power as I had done before. But my magic had been so depleted that nary a spark appeared at my fingertips. By that point, my heart might have stopped entirely.

The blast Malekith set forth had been aimed at Thor. It clipped me in the shoulder, forcing me to stagger back. But Thor was struck much harder, taking the full brunt of the attack. He soared well across the bridge where he landed on what must've been the ship's manual controls. The mild tilting of the ship we'd experienced earlier was nothing compared to the sheer chaos that was unleashed upon us.

Abruptly, the ship banked and struck something—a column of ice, perhaps. It sent us careening, the entire body of the vessel spinning out of control. Unstable footing soon became falling. My head struck the ground, stars exploding before my very eyes, the impact making me lose my grip on Silvertongue. I could hardly regain my wits as the ship's rotation increased speed, throwing us all about.

Amidst the massive churn, I nearly went soaring through the opening that led into the room containing the deeply embedded star map. With a scream caught in my throat, I grabbed onto what appeared to be a crooked handrail, one I imagined to have broken Loki's fall some time ago. I held on tight, eyes shut, waiting for the rolling to end. Another jolt had my fingers loosening their hold. I let out a cry, my hands sliding along metal, the friction setting my skin afire.

"Eirlys!"

I looked upwards—or what I perceived to be upwards—and discerned Thor grappling with a column, extending a hand to me. If the distant hollow _clang-clang_ was any indication, Mjolnir was likely bouncing around the bridge along with the rest of us. Tightening my left hand around the bar, I reached out to him, my hand finding his just seconds before the ship slammed into what I suspected to be a mountain. It sent a terrible shudder through the ship, but Thor didn't dare let go.

Without warning, the air changed and grew warm, the screeching winds dying down to a mere whisper. An odd thrill danced over my skin, magic flowing through everything around us. I recognized the sensation—Loki and I had travelled through enough pathways for me to know what it felt like. As we entered into another realm, the ship righted itself, the spinning coming to an end at last. Upright and otherwise unmoving, I hit the ground with a dull _thud_.

Although the vessel appeared to maintain its course, sailing straight ahead with no further hindrances, I had no way of knowing where we were now. Everyone and everything inside the ship had grown still. The spinning and the sudden venture through a pathway had me disoriented, magic lingering on my skin. In the wake of such sensation, Thor and I struggled to rise. Malekith, however, did not have the same difficulty.

While all among our party were unarmed and unable to react in time, Malekith called upon more energy than I'd ever seen. Hands pressed close, he gathered the Aether in a far greater capacity than he'd been able before and lashed out, lifting every one of us off our feet, pinning us against the walls. Again, my head met with metal, and I could do little more than groan in response.

Malekith moved to stand amidst us, backlit by the rays of tangerine sunlight pouring through the aperture. Across the bridge, Sif fought—unsuccessfully—to free her arms from Malekith's hold. Beside her, Loki simply started down at the Dark Elf, the cold fury in his eyes visible even at such a distance.

"I have waited five thousand years for this opportunity," Malekith said, hands outstretched still to keep us affixed to the walls. "To eradicate the bloodline of my greatest enemy." He glanced at Thor. "The Asgardians slaughtered countless of my people in a war so rampant that it ended the lives of my wife and children. My family. My people. I would have retribution, whether it be through fire or darkness."

My heart twisted at that bit of irony. So strange it seemed, that we would seek vengeance for the revenge that Malekith exacted. He would kill our family for the death of his, and we would seek to return the favour. Where did it end?

Though he lowered his hands to his side, the Aether kept us in place. Turning, he faced Loki directly. "But you... you killed the only family that remained to me. My brother should have been here to share in this victory."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Nalak was a fool attempting to curry favour from a being who did not give it. That was his end. He brought it upon himself."

"It was your hand that took his life." Malekith circled around the ship's bridge, his gaze coming to rest upon me. "All that I have held dear has been taken from me. The same shall be done unto you."

The blood drained from my face when he outstretched his hand, the Aether drawing me closer to him. Mere inches away, he freed me from its bonds, allowing me to drop to the ground, my knees cracking against the metal. Before I could attempt to recover, he reached down to grasp my throat, yanking me up to my feet. It all seemed so familiar; some hysterical part of me wanted to laugh. Perhaps I'd been on the edge of death one too many times.

"Such a weak and pitiful creature." Malekith's voice was low, his words meant for me and me alone. "There was a fear that you would prove a formidable nuisance, but I see now that fear was unfounded."

I could feel the power of the Aether blanketing me. His grip tightened, prompting me to clutch onto his arm in a futile attempt to pry him off. He did not have the strength of Thanos, but the power of the Aether more than made up for it, the dark energy choking me. He looked to those around us, eyes sharp and derisive. I could not see their reactions. I could not see their faces.

"She will die just as your queen did," Malekith proclaimed. "And you will watch, helpless to stop it. Just as I was long ago."

Fire flared in my veins at the mere mention of Frigga. _How dare he invoke her memory and threaten me_. Jaw clenched, I squeezed his arm as hard as my tired muscles would allow, my fingernails scraping painfully against his bracers. "You have already made a grave mistake. The same mistake your brother made." His brow furrowed in bewilderment, and I felt a surge of pride, knowing that I caught a being so ancient and powerful off guard. "You underestimate me."

The crystal hidden in my bracer grew hot, searing my skin, the moment I drew on his magic—on the power of the Aether. My knuckles tensed, crackling from the strain. Channelling through my very being, the energy burned. With exacting focus, I never allowed it to meet the heart of my magic as I had mistakenly done so the day we destroyed the Tesseract.

I shut my eyes, calling the energy forth to my fingertips. But my intention to envelop Malekith in a barrier to fling him aside never came to fruition. Instead, the meagre control I had over my power caused it to manifest as a frenzied blast.

Stronger and brighter than anything I'd produced in the past year, the burst of magic rocked the entirety of the ship. The sheer force behind it sent Malekith flying backwards into the hull with a solid _BANG_. As he dropped to the ground, dazed, everyone on the bridge fell from his clutches, the Aether dispersing without his will to keep it in place.

A single heartbeat later, a flurry of movement consumed the ship.

From the far side of the bridge, Thor recalled Mjolnir, the mythical weapon arcing upwards to strike Malekith in the face before it soared into Thor's waiting hand. In that same moment, Loki darted past me, tossing the Soul Stone in my direction. I caught it deftly just as he reached Malekith, the dust and crumbled pieces of the purple Alfheim crystal spilling from my bracer when I did so, disintegrated by the overload of power.

The Dark Elf had barely risen to his knees by the time Loki wrapped his arm around his throat from behind, jerking his head back. "Eirlys, now!"

Pulse thundering in my ears, I stabbed downwards, piercing Malekith's chest, preempting any action he would've taken against us. The feel of the Aether flowing through me earlier was nothing compared to the power surging through both Infinity Stones at once. I could not breathe. My whole body thrummed and shuddered, flesh burning from the inside out. I almost retreated for fear of the combined force, but I knew I could not let go.

It was easy to be consumed by the Aether if one did not handle it with care. I could feel it. As if the epitome of magic, it was greater than anything I'd ever sensed, deafening and blinding all at once. The Soul Stone vibrated in my hand, and through it, I could discern the tendrils of the Aether. I could tear it from him, separate it from his body entirely. As well as his soul. It was there, a roaring flame, one that I could rip from his being. I wondered what would happen should I rend his soul from his body, but the very thought of it made my stomach roil.

As though paralyzed by the Soul Stone, Malekith did little more than loose a strangled, choking gasp when I extracted the Aether from him. The red spilled forth, streaming from his eyes and his mouth to collect in the mystical container hanging at my hip. Once it ceased, I could no longer sense the boundless dark energy that Malekith once had at his fingertips. With the Aether safely tucked away, Malekith was powerless to stop us.

I wrenched the Soul Stone free from his chest, blood smearing the sharp amber stone. He slumped before us, wordless and weak. Then, placing a blade at Malekith's throat, Loki pulled his head back once more to meet his gaze.

Malekith glowered in response. "My death will not stop Surtur. I have already won," he said. "As the Nine Realms burn, my vengeance will still be found."

Head canting to one side, Loki leaned but a fraction closer and sneered, "Then I suppose I'll see you in Hel."

And with that, he drove his blade deep into Malekith's jugular and removed it in the same swift motion. Blood surged forth, covering the front of Malekith's armour before tingeing the ground red. I took a step back, fighting the bitter tang that rose in the back of my throat. After a several heartbeats, Loki let the body fall unceremoniously to the ground and wiped away the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand, which did little more than smear the crimson stain.

I stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted.

My stillness seemed to draw his attention, for he glanced over at me, brow quirked. "I did vow to take vengeance, did I not?"

"No, I know." Brow furrowed, I realized he mistook my alarm for disgust. In reality, I was in disbelief—how strange it felt now that Malekith was dead at our feet and we had the Aether in our possession. It was admittedly startling to see Loki dispatch him in such a manner. But I would not have had it any other way. "As did I."

Any further commentary on our dead foes was interrupted by the shuddering groan and abrupt tilting of the ship. Our collective gazes darted towards the manual controls only to find the entire panel was damaged beyond use, the metal caved in, sparks pouring intermittently from what remained. And with technology well beyond our purview, repairing it was utterly out of the question.

Another very loud and very concerning noise filled the cabin, sounding rather like the dying wail of bilgesnipe. Within seconds, a massive tremor rippled through the ship, accompanied by a wave of magic. The strange prickle cavorted across my skin before the air became stifling hot, reeking of sulphur. Glancing towards the aperture that gave us a view of the outside world, I saw the red glow of lava stretching on for hundreds of miles. The Dark Elf ship had travelled through its final pathway.

We'd arrived on Muspelheim.

Thor hastened over to the nearest screen and jabbed at whatever appeared to be functioning still. "There must be a way to reverse our course," he said, banging his fist on everything within reach. "We can travel back through the same pathway, can we not?"

Gaze flickering over what remained of the console, Loki gave an exasperated sigh. "The question of whether such a feat is possible has been rendered pointless considering we haven't any idea of how to control this ship."

As if to punctuate his point, the ship veered left and crashed into what sounded like a cliff. Worst of all, it was not the body of the ship that struck rock—it was the fin protruding beneath that did.

The ship pitched forward, slamming into rock. We were thrown about, hitting the walls along with the half-dozen corpses that remained among us. Our vessel began spinning sideways once more, like we were rolling down a hill. Every one of us slammed into the hull, our attempts to find purchase thwarted until the spinning stopped. Even then, the ship continued to slide.

It skidded down the terrain for no more than a handful of seconds when it came to a halt so abrupt, it jerked us all forward one last time. Heart plummeting, I watched as Loki was thrown forth, falling through the hole torn in the side of the hull.

Bereft of all coherent thought, I dove after him, my hand grabbing his just before he was out of reach. The sudden stop wrenched on my arm, sending shards of agony through my shoulder. But I barely paid it any mind. Not when I saw what lay below.

A river of lava flowed beneath the ship that now hung precariously on the edge of a cliff. The heat of it swept across my skin, the sudden change of temperature piercing. Loki looked up at me, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, knuckles white. His eyes went wide, his lips parted with unspoken words. I felt a panic sweep over me. I couldn't pull him up.

I hadn't the strength.

His fingers slipped along mine.

This time, my heart truly did stop.

Then a figure appeared beside me, hand outstretched, and my panic gave way to relief. It was Sif, laid on her front, her shoulder pressed against mine. "Loki, take my hand."

His brow lifted at the sight of her, but he didn't dare hesitate to take her hand. Together, we pulled him back into the ship, inch by inch, sliding backwards cautiously as we did so. By the time Loki was near enough to grab the edge of the aperture and lift himself up, Thor took Sif's place, all but yanking him upwards and depositing him within the ship.

Though Loki was kneeling safely next to me now, I didn't let go of his hand. I could not. Bathed in the flickering light of the streaming lava, he met my gaze, breath coming in heavy pants. I wanted to embrace him and never let go, but the weight of the circumstances stayed my hands. And I was right not to, for our relief was short lived.

The ship began to tilt forward again, slipping downwards, closer to the lava. No one had to speak a word—there was no opportunity, at any rate. We sprang into action at once. I sheathed the Soul Stone, stooping to scoop up Silvertongue and stowing it away just the same. As I did so, I became all too aware of the Aether hanging from one hip and the Soul Stone fastened to the other. I had not liked having one Infinity Stone in my possession, but to have two... Uneasy as I was, I lacked the time to fret over it.

My friends were quick to grab their own weapons as they headed across the bridge. Loki even went so far as to turn towards the Twilight Sword shard, but Thor grasped his arm, precluding any attempts to reach it. "We haven't the time, Loki."

Despite the glower he shot in his brother's direction, Loki did not seek to argue. Instead, the two of them led the way to the far end of the ship where the nearest hatch lay. It would have been far easier to exit if the ship hadn't been turned on its side. Alas, nothing was ever easy.

Thor dropped to one knee, holding out his cupped hands. "Sif, hurry."

She didn't need to clarify. She simply stepped into his hold, and he lifted her upwards, enabling her to punch open the hatch. More hot air blasted through the innards of the ship, the thickening atmosphere making it far too difficult to breathe. Sif never let it slow her down. Hands clamping over the metal edge, she hoisted herself up, disappearing through the gaping hatch in seconds.

I went next, climbing up with Thor's assistance. The moment I grasped the metal edge above, the ship shifted, threatening to throw me sideways. My muscles ached from hanging on, my fingernails screaming from the awkward grip, but I persevered, dragging myself through the opening, my boots scuffling against the wall in search of further leverage. Once I went over the ledge, I tumbled from the hatch and cast a barrier, the brief flash of magic enough to soften my otherwise fast fall.

Upon landing on the craggy black rock, I turned back to watch Loki leap from the hatch, dropping several yards to land in a crouch. Next, Thor came flying from the opening, Mjolnir at the fore. As soon as he escaped the vessel, it pitched forward on the soft ash and molten rock.

If Thor ever thought about keeping the ship from falling, it was too late to try.

The massive black spacecraft skidded down the rock where it slowly, inevitably, tipped to one side and fell from the cliff. Its entirety disappeared into the lava, consumed by the boundless heat and molten rock. A grave for Amora, Malekith, and his Dark Elves. If there had been any alive on board still, we would never know. I didn't want to know.

Thor perched a yard away, dropping hard enough to crack the surface. For a moment, I feared it would crumble and give way beneath us, but it held fast. He glanced over each of us, lingering on Sif, who remained crouched on the ground, a little longer than the rest of us. "Are you harmed?" He knelt before her, touching a gentle hand to the laceration across her brow.

She smiled faintly, clasping his hand. "It won't kill me."

"But this world just might. We could very well burst into flame should we stay here a moment longer," Loki said, still on one knee. He hadn't risen since leaping from the ship, his eyes growing sunken. The gloomy red glow of Muspelheim made him appear all the worse, casting grim light upon his increasingly wan complexion.

Pacing near to him, I proffered my hand. His gaze held mine for but a moment before he took my hand, fingers curling around my wrist as he climbed to his feet.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted. "Open the Bifrost!"

"Are you mad?" Loki stalked over to Thor, all but shoving him backwards in a hastened attempt to silence him. "We are in the heart of enemy territory. There is no knowing how many demons are in our midst."

At that, Thor fell silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Loki.

Sif rose alongside Thor and stared at the sky. "Is it possible Heimdall cannot see us? Perhaps this is no different to the mists of Niffleheim."

I followed her gaze to eye the dark smog churning high above. It blanketed the sky, blocking our view of anything beyond this world. If it were day or night, none of us could tell; the ever-roiling lava around us provided all the light and heat we needed—and then some. While the smog did not seem to obstruct our view of everything around us, it made the air thick, a choking heat burning with every breath taken.

"Then we need to find a place where he can see us," I said.

Loki gave a strained smile. "As preferable as that might be, it seems unlikely we'll find any relief from this endless pall." I lifted a brow at him, thinking he was being glib, but then he returned my look, his expression marked with a deep frown. "But we might be able to find a passageway to another world."

"How is it you conveniently know every pathway in the Nine Realms?" Sif asked.

Jaw clenched, Loki replied far more sharply, "Therein lies the problem: I _don't_ know. We must search for one, and there is no knowing where that venture may take us."

"Then we best start walking," Thor remarked. "Lead the way, Loki. You know how to sense them better than any of us."

Striding past Thor, Loki gave him a pointed look. "We would have far less of a problem if we'd simply taken the sword shard from the ship."

A bark of laughter escaped Thor's lips. "And which of us would've been able to carry such an encumbrance? Certainly not me."

When Loki rolled his eyes, I laid a hand on his arm. "We will find a way," I said. "You have never been one to give up in the face of a challenge."

The tension in his muscles did not abate, but he nevertheless sighed and quashed the impulse to argue.

Before we could even consider which direction to take, the ground beneath our feet began shake. The surface cracked and shifted, giving way to a bright red glow. Heart in my throat, I stumbled back from the fracture, Loki catching me round the waist to help steady my footing. The terrain ruptured further, lava spewing from below as it continued to grow.

When a claw burst from the fissure, all four of us staggered back. Limbs followed the claws, drawing up a massive figure from the world's mantle. All around them, fire demons crawled from the depths of Muspelheim, talons scratching against the molten rock, seeking purchase.

"Damn." Loki looked about, turning to face the only direction in which there were no demons bursting from the surface. The path would take us further up a hill, two streams of lava flanking either side. If the path continued beyond the crest of the hill or led to a cliff, there was no way of knowing until we made the climb. In a moment of hesitation, Loki and I exchanged a glance. I could see the same doubt in his eyes. "If we do not climb that hill, we die either way."

With our wordless assent, he took my hand in his and began to run, Sif and Thor trailing shortly behind. None among our company dared to stop and face the demons rising to challenge us. We were in their territory—on their very own world. They had us at an undeniable disadvantage. One glance behind was all I needed to confirm that there were too many for us to contend. Their numbers grew with every step we took. A dozen became two dozen. In the next moment, there were at least fifty on our tail.

Side by side, Loki and I hastened up the black rock, shying away from the rivers of lava flanking us. I didn't dare look back at the demons again. I could hear them, hundreds of feet beating against the cracked rock, their fiery figures heating the air further until I choked. In the face of all the pain and the exhaustion, we could not slow. Our lives depended upon it. The lives of all in the Nine Realms depended upon it.

As we neared the height of the hill, a roar from our left had us lurching back. One of the demons had gained on us, leaping from the lava flow. Loki let go of my hand to fling a throwing knife, striking the creature in the eye. It screeched, tumbling to the ground. Whether or not Loki killed it, I would never know, for another demon appeared on our right. _A helhound_. A burst of magic knocked the demon aside. As it fell, another hound merely took its place. With my magic exhausted, I managed to draw a dagger from my belt, but that was as far as I reacted before it pounced, crashing into me.

It seemed neither the demon nor I realized we'd gone over the apex of the hill until we were falling down the opposite side, its angle so steep that I could not slow our descent in the slightest. My hands burned when I gripped the helhound by the jaw, keeping its teeth from my face, even as we toppled over one another during our fall. Thankfully, like all things, the fall had an end.

I landed on top, one knee planted in the soft underbelly of the demon, the heat warping the leather of my trousers. Ignoring the increasing temperature, I stabbed downwards, my dagger sinking deep into the hound's throat. With a cry, I stabbed it again in the head for good measure. Drawing away from the smouldering creature, I sat hard on the black rock, the heat and burgeoning blisters on my skin causing me to tremble.

My heart jumped when another figure appeared before me, and relief flooded me just as quickly as soon as I recognized that it was Thor. "I'm all right," I breathed. "Just caught by surprise."

Proffering a hand, Thor graced me with so brief a smile that it was difficult to say for certain that it had ever really been there. Behind him, Loki and Sif skidded down the hill, sliding so fast that they may as well have been falling freely. Loki reached us before she did, the furrow in his brow oddly evident in his expression.

As I rose to my feet, Sif gave me a nod, seemingly satisfied that I was not terribly harmed. "Have you any idea of which way we might find passage to another world?" she asked, casting a furtive glance up the steep hill. The demons in our wake would gain on us soon enough.

"We'll need to keep moving until I can sense one." Loki started forwards once more, following the curve of the lava flow, never acknowledging the crackling of the ground under our feet. "The Convergence is just barely near enough to amplify the energies contained in the pathways. At the least, they will be easier to find with it than without."

The four of us continued surveying the landscape, terrain stretching on for miles, the horizon vanishing in the wavering haze of Muspelheim's unmitigated heat. Lava flows wound about, twisting and turning like tendrils, some deepening and giving shape to steep cliffs; we made certain to avoid those. And yet, despite all our caution, it never seemed to matter. Demons surrounded us on all sides.

"There is a pathway nearby," Loki called over his shoulder. To my surprise, even I could sense it—a distinct flicker of magic—but I struggled to pinpoint its location. "It must lie to the—"

Forced to abide the bend of a lava flow, we'd neared another fiery chasm a touch more than we should have. In the blink of an eye, a massive claw latched onto the brim, arising from fire and brimstone. Vaguely, I was aware of several more long claws anchoring to the cliffside, but my regard could not stray from the first to rise.

Thor moved ahead of us, lifting Mjolnir in the air, summoning electricity from the atmosphere. The heat churning around us lent even more static, allowing Thor to loose a bolt of lightning the likes I had never seen before. The _BOOM_ that accompanied the discharge shook my whole frame, echoing through my entire chest.

The power behind the blast sizzled through the demon, striking it down.

That left us another half-dozen to battle.

As they climbed onto our plateau, we were granted a full view of their massive frames. They stood hunched, their claws resting on the ground to keep them balanced. Even then, they appeared well over eight feet, every talon like a blade of steel, their curved horns adding to their ferocity. _Dreadclaws_. Though they were well feared among Vanir children, more so than any other demon, their hand-drawn depictions were far less terrifying compared to seeing them in person.

When the dreadclaws made their approach, we were forced to separate, ducking beneath the monstrous claws bearing down on us. Upon drawing my sword, I approached the demon nearest to the lava flow. It turned towards me, eyes glowing red, reptilian features stretching upwards in a grotesque grin. Dread struck my heart. _They certainly live up to the name_. But it mattered not how much fear they instilled within me. We simply needed to kill them before they killed us.

I diverted one massive claw with Silvertongue, the creature's talons scraping against the hard ground to my right. My attempt to run the demon through resulted in my sword being swiped aside in turn. Breath seizing, I dropped to a crouch, the demon's claw missing my head by a mere inch. I retaliated, jabbing the demon in the chest. This demon was far hardier than any I'd encountered before. The stab to the chest may have done damage, but the demon was less affected by it than I hoped.

Eyes growing wide, I brought my metal shield up to block the next attack. The force behind the blow was greater than anything my shield had met before. Keen claws punctured and shattered the metal, tearing through the surface skin of my forearm. Pain lanced through me, rolling over me in waves. And yet it was nothing I could not fight through. I grit my teeth, using the claw stuck in my shield as leverage to reach the demon's head. With an upward stab, I sank my blade into the dreadclaw's eye, killing it at once.

It collapsed in a heap before me, Silvertongue lodged in its skull. I hadn't the strength to remove it with the use of one hand. Instead, I pulled the claw free from my flesh of my forearm, biting back the scream that settled in the back of my throat. Blood dribbled from my wounds, but I disregarded it for the time being, turning only to find Sif wrestling with another demon.

Pushing past the pain, I removed the remains of my shield from my arm and reared it back. With a shout, I let it fly, the sharp shard embedding in the side of her adversary's head. When Sif looked back at me with the slightest of smiles, I loosed a short laugh at the surprising accuracy of my throw. But we could not revel in it for long. More dreadclaws rose from the chasm, three of them hurling themselves at Thor, knocking him from his feet to prevent him from mustering lightning again.

Another pair charged at me, but Sif dashed in front of them and sank Drekisbane in the torso of one, grabbing its attention. The other continued its advance towards me, claws thudding against the rock with every step. With a sharp inhale, I grabbed my sword with both hands, my left forearm stinging, and dragged the blade from the dead demon. If I had done so a split second later, I would not have been able to foil the incoming demon's attack.

Ducking down, I swung wide, sparks and ash bursting when I sliced clean through the demon's arm. While the claw detached and fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap, an earsplitting screech rattled my eardrums, making me hesitate just a moment too long. Still, I discerned the demon's opposite claw sweeping towards me. My breath abandoned me as I tumbled to the ground, rolling to avoid the strike.

I brought up my sword, bracing the blade with the palm of my left hand, the moment the claw came down. Both of my arms shook at the impact, my left especially so. The wound on my forearm bled further, the pain expanding, spreading.

An awful screech on my right caught my attention then. Another demon was heading my way to assist my current one-clawed opponent. Should the second demon reach us before I vanquished the first, I would not have the strength to fight both at once.

Jaw clenched, I wrapped my fingers around the blade, the sharp side slashing open my skin. A cry tore through my throat as I bucked the demon to the left, its talons too large to hook around Silvertongue. The dreadclaw writhed on the ground, struggling to rise, but I reared my arm back and sank my sword deep in its throat, yanking it upwards to detach half of its neck from its shoulders.

I was robbed of any relief, knowing full well that the second dreadclaw was approaching still. Hands scrabbling to keep hold of the hilt, I struggled to pull my sword free. It was an impossible feat from my position on the ground, yet I could not seem to rise with sufficient haste. Everything ached, muscles seizing. Blood made my fingers slick, my stomach roiling at the sight.

Distantly, I heard Loki shouting my name, footsteps thundering, every breath heavier than the one that came before.

At last, I wrenched my blade from the corpse laying beside me, and I rolled onto my back to meet the next enemy head on.

Even then, I had not moved fast enough.

Loki was there in front of me, rushing to reach me. In the span of a breath, he was covering my body with his own, arms braced on either side of me, the demon's claws coming down in the same instant.

His eyes found mine.

Then he jerked with a grunt, the sharp tang of blood permeating the air.

Everything grew silent.

We stared at one another, but all I could perceive was his blood, dripping in rivulets, falling to run over the surface of my own armour. In the haze, it seemed like an eon before I fully registered the demon's claws protruding from his chest—long enough to impale him but not enough to reach me.

Heartbeat thrashing in my ears, I held Loki close with one hand and stabbed upwards, my sword arm slipping underneath his. Though I could scarcely see the demon behind him, I felt Silvertongue's blade slide between two plates of carapace, sinking into the softer flesh beneath.

The demon reared back, taking Silvertongue with it. But its claws withdrew from Loki's body, the sudden movement yanking him back, making him topple over beside me. He did little more than gasp, hands pressed over his wounds in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Even as I felt the urge to remain at Loki's side, I stumbled to my feet instead, holding my injured left arm close. My vision seemed to tunnel when I launched myself at the dreadclaw, drawing the Soul Stone from my belt. With my sword still in its side, the demon was too slow to evade my next attack. I brought down the stone, striking the demon's arm hard enough to crack the hot carapace, embedding the stone in the surface. If it had been any ordinary weapon, that would have meant little. But with the Soul Stone, it was more than ample.

Tightening my grip, I mustered the stone's magic, heaving on the demon's energy. I had never considered whether or not Surtur's demons had anything much resembling a _soul_. Even so, it had a life force like every creature in the Cosmos, and it was that which I drew upon, the effort haphazard and inelegant. The amber stone glowed brighter and hotter in my hand, the reaction quite unlike the extraction of the Aether. I could not bring myself to consider what using the Soul Stone meant, how it absorbed the demon's life force, nor did I care much at that moment. All that mattered was that the creature was dead.

It slumped to one side, Silvertongue jutting out from the demon's ribs. Disregarding everything else, I shoved the Soul Stone back into its sheathe and hastened back to Loki, dropping to my knees beside him. Although I was aware of the demons surrounding us and the hot black rock slowly searing my skin, I could not bring myself to give them any further attention. All I could see now was Loki.

Sitting back on my haunches, I cradled his head in my lap, injured fingers twining with his hair. He blinked much too slow, the very sight sending a jolt straight to my heart. Blood coated the front of his surcoat, spilling onto the ground around him, the heat of the rock causing it to steam. My throat grew thick as I snaked a trembling hand under his own to lay upon his chest, fingers splayed over three wounds, each deep and wide. That he yet lived was a wonder in itself. A fleeting wonder.

In a single painful instant, I knew that I could not heal him.

He was beyond pale now, skin turning grey. Never in my life had I seen such a thing. Did Jotun flesh become grey when they died? "Loki!" I clutched him close, leaning over him to see that his gaze had grown unfocussed, eyelids struggling to remain open. "Loki? Can you hear me?"

His lips parted, as if in an attempt to respond, but he could not give voice to a single word.

Panic set in. _I have to save him._ I pressed on his wounds, garnering a weak groan from him, and mustered whatever magic I had remaining within me. _I have to save him._ Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision until I could see nothing.

With a huff, I scrubbed away my tears before returning my hand to his wounds, my skin coated in his blood. "Oh Norns, Loki..." A sob escaped my lips, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek to choke back the rest. I needed to concentrate. I needed to focus on gathering what energy I had to heal as much of his wounds as possible. But I couldn't seem to gather my scattered thoughts, let alone the bare remnants of my magic. _I have to save him._

 _But I can't._

"Eirlys, I'm sorry." I froze when he reached up, his bloodied hand coming up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing against my skin. "I'm sorry."

I lifted my hand and grasped his, blood mingling with blood. "No... no, stop. Stop apologizing. It's not over yet."

Loki blinked and laughed, as though I'd said the most ludicrous thing ever. His laugh was cut short by a cough, his body shuddering with every breath he took thereafter—every wheeze. My mind was not cooperative enough to catalogue all the damage done unto him, but I could still recognize a punctured lung with little deliberation.

Every sliver of amusement faded from his features then. Growing weaker with every heartbeat, his fingers stilled beneath mine. "I... don't suppose I will ever see you again."

I trembled, tears brimming my eyes. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare think that." His eyes fluttered closed, and my heart jolted. With a shuddering breath, I pulled him upright, propping his head against my shoulder. "Open your eyes, Loki. Please, stay with me. We need you." I rested my cheek on his brow, tears flowing freely, unable to be contained. "I need you."

He was dying. He was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it.


	17. The End of All Things

**Author's Note:** Hello, hello, I'm here to relieve you of the cliffhanger I left you dangling on.

This here is the penultimate chapter (though there will be an epilogue). This is also the longest chapter of the entire series.

Please enjoy!

* * *

 **SEVENTEEN**

* * *

 _the end of all things_

* * *

Never in my life had I felt so utterly alone.

A deep chill settled in my heart despite the heat of the air burning my lungs.

Loki lay in my arms, unmoving, his skin greying further with every passing second. I did not know if that meant he was dead. Neither did I have the strength to find out for certain.

Numb, I raised my head to find Thor and Sif immersed in battle, their movements growing ever sluggish and arduous. Their fight with the dreadclaws was beginning to overwhelm them. We would not last long against these demons. They were closing in around us. We had nowhere to run. We had no means to defeat the enemy.

Was this where it would all end?

Yards before me, Sif skewered a demon through and wrenched Drekisbane free in a single fluid movement. Through the haze of ash and smoke, she turned to seek me out, her gaze meeting mine. She shouted something, but I could not discern her meaning over the pounding of claws upon the rock, the roiling lava around us, or the thundering of my pulse in my ears. And yet I still managed to grasp one word. One word was all I needed for the world to right itself in an instant.

I let out a breath and silently cursed myself for not having thought of it sooner, for my mind not being quicker and sharper in the face of such despair.

 _The Aether_.

Of course, I could venture a guess as to why I hadn't considered it an option. It was dangerous. It would consume my life force and quite easily kill me if I attempted to use it. But, caution be damned, I did not have the luxury of hesitation. Even knowing full well the damage the Aether would do to me, I could not allow myself to care.

Sight blurring with tears, I gripped Loki by the shoulders, unable to determine if he still breathed, and eased him to the ground. His eyes had drifted closed, parted lips spattered with blood. A strange sense of hysteria tugged at the back of my mind, but I shoved it away and ignored it. He had to be alive. I refused to think otherwise. I refused to let him go. _Not now_. _Not like this._

My hands went to the vessel hanging from my belt, wresting it free in a single lurching motion. Even now, I could scarcely believe that I had possession of the Aether. So much fear and anger and agony—the destruction it wrought—all of it clung to the forefront of my mind. This was the force that killed my father. This was what Frigga gave her life trying to defend. And I had its power at my fingertips.

With scrabbling fingers, I wrenched open the top of the vessel, the dark red amorphous Infinity Stone surging from its container. It drifted through the air before turning and streaking towards me. Pure energy crawled along my arms, seeping into my skin, swirling all around me until it filled my eyes and lungs, the energy setting my entire form alight from the inside.

Darkness crept upon me until my entire vision blacked out. It felt as though I was floating in a sea of red, waves of the Aether roiling around me, dragging me beneath its depths. I fought against it. The dark energy wanted to swallow me whole, and I struggled to maintain consciousness, eyes squeezed shut, limbs shaking. Power flooded my veins, the roar of an ocean filling my ears.

When I opened my eyes next, the shadows receded and the red ebbed away.

The now empty vessel slipped from my limp fingers, falling to the ground with a heavy _clank_. I fell forward in turn, hand to my chest. The Aether blazed inside me, encompassing my life force, squeezing tight. I grit my teeth, unable to breathe, unable to move. But I could feel the power surging through me, from head to toe, like a boundless current prickling the inside of my flesh. That power... I could harness that power. Draw on it. Wield it. If I thought using the Soul Stone was a thrill, this was intoxicating by comparison.

My gaze snapped upwards and sought the enemy—the dozens of demons closing in on us. Rising to my feet with greater ease than I expected, I threw out both hands and let the Aether loose. A flash of power flowed from my heart to my every extremity, bursting forth. It sliced through the air, a blast of blood red magic that resembled my familiar blue in form but not in colour. Although I felt the energy tense around my life force, it did not feed directly from it, never straining my own magic, not yet consuming all that lay within me. But there was no knowing how long that would last.

The sheer might behind my attack knocked every dreadclaw back, enough to send some of them crashing to the ground with a resounding _CRACK_. When a great number of them did not rise, I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing they were dead or too damaged to move again. The few who did clamber to their claws were dispatched in an instant by both Sif and Thor.

As soon as all fell silent, the two of them turned to stare at me, eyes wide and shoulders taut. They were covered in lacerations, blood marring their faces and their armour, albeit in no frightful capacity. While they stood in stunned silence, I shuddered from the buzz of the Aether, like insects crawling beneath my skin, itching to be released.

 _I have to save him_.

My gaze found that of Thor. I didn't even need to speak to compel him into action.

There was something painfully reminiscent about Thor and me kneeling on either side of Loki, his wounds glaring up at us. Wordless, Thor took hold of Loki's shoulders and sat him upright to grant me access to his back. I had to smother the sickness that rose in my throat at the sight of his shredded flesh. Across from me, Thor clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes.

Blood flowed from his wounds, flesh rent and pierced straight through. Such damage to his vital organs would kill him—if it hadn't already. With a thick swallow, I laid my hands on his back, his blood cool against my fingers, even in the heat of Muspelheim. He did not respond to my touch, but the slightest rise of his shoulders told me that he stilled lived. And that was all I needed to know.

Closing my eyes, I focussed all of my will into controlling the Aether, using it as if it were an extension of myself. I took in an unsteady breath before letting the Aether stream through me. It felt so foreign, like having another being permeate the entirety of my body. But I could manipulate it, force it to heed my bidding. Every time I did so, it would cinch just a little more around my life force. I could not allow myself to be concerned about it. Not when I held Loki's life in my hands.

I scrambled to seize the tendrils of magic within me, directing the Aether to the tips of my fingers. Malekith's use of the Aether had been unwieldy and erratic. Now I understood why. The Infinity Stone itself was difficult to restrain, a turbulent energy that required a steady mind, a strong will, and more time than our circumstances permitted. Distantly, I heard Sif and Thor speak warnings about approaching demons, but I did not let it distract me.

It seemed an eternity before I grasped the Aether and harnessed it in earnest, not once drawing upon my own magic. I pressed on Loki's wounds and felt him shudder. Then, with a celerity I had never thought possible, he began to heal. I could sense the path of the Aether-fuelled magic seeping into his heart, mending the arteries, repairing the damage that had been done. The flesh beneath my fingers fused together, sealing closed, clotting blood giving way to regrown skin. I almost drew away, so bizarre and startling it was. The purpose of healing magic was to accelerate a being's natural restoration, but certainly not at this rate.

What proved even more odd was the mending of my own wounds. The cuts on my fingers and arms, the burn from the Hakurei's flame, all healed by the simple sweep of the Aether venturing through every fibre of my being. _It's protecting itself as much as it's protecting me_. A prickling heat coursed through my veins as I channelled it for as long as I could, ensuring I healed Loki's wounds to the fullest.

Upon feeling Loki jerk beneath my fingers, I let go at last.

I all but fell back on my haunches, head tilted back, gasping for air—a near impossible feat in these conditions. When he groaned, I practically threw myself forward to survey his wounds. "Lay him back." My voice was far more hoarse than I expected, but Thor did as I asked, easing him back onto the ground. Absent any further words, Thor rose, bracing Mjolnir close to his side. The demons were coming, and we could not afford to remain here a moment longer.

Letting out a heavy breath, I leaned over Loki and skimmed my left hand under his head, fingers twined with his knotted hair. With my opposite hand, I touched his chest, inspecting the gaping holes in his surcoat. His wounds, though crusted in blood, had been closed. I laid my palm flat against his chest to find his heartbeat—the feel of which I was quite well acquainted with. His pulse was faint. Too faint. But it was steady. He'd lost a lot of blood, which was something I could not replenish for him. The unbearable weight in my heart lifted when I was assured he would, at the least, survive the next few minutes.

His whole body lurched when he coughed, each cough followed by a deep inhale and the struggle for air. I shifted him on his side to face me, my hand braced on his shoulder, and waited for him to regain his breath. In the distance, straight ahead, I spotted a dozen more dreadclaws heading our way. Though the demons were still specks on the horizon, they were fast approaching.

Breath evening out, Loki lifted a hand to run his fingers along my arm. The Aether seemed to react to his touch much as I did, a faint red glow flaring to meet him. Despite the circumstances, he had the audacity to sigh. "What have you done?"

"I saved your life."

"At the expense of your own? The Aether will kill you," he said, his voice scarcely more than a rasp. "You shouldn't have..."

"And you would have died had I not taken that risk." That he sought to dispute me with regards to the Aether, here and now, almost made me laugh. "We need it to survive all that Surtur hurls at us until we return to Asgard. When we're there, you can take it from me and end this. Do you think you could endure that for the next while?"

He somehow found the energy to chuckle. "A reasoning that brooks no argument." His pale blue eyes met mine in the wavering firelight of Muspelheim. "You did, after all, rescue me from death."

Even as the tears continued to burn just behind my eyes, I managed a smile. "I'm glad we have established that very important fact."

Bracketing his face with my hands, I felt my smile fade and vanish. It had been so close. So close to losing him. And that instance of near death would not be the last of the day, surely. We had yet to face Surtur on the battlefield. With a thick swallow, I leaned down and gave him a fleeting kiss, the urgency of our adversity by no means lost on me.

"Eirlys, we best go. Can he stand?" We both looked to see Sif standing opposite me, her expression pinched. At my nod, she proffered her hand to him and arched a brow. "On your feet, Loki. You were never one to lay idly by, a fact that has been a benefit and a detriment to us all."

For once, he actually smirked at one of Sif's japes and accepted her aid.

Slow and unstable, he pushed past every weakness and climbed to his feet, relying on Sif more than I suspected he ever wished to. "You sensed a pathway earlier—before we were attacked," Sif said. "Which way?"

He did not bother giving directions, instead starting off along the lava flows, his steps becoming stronger and steadier as the seconds passed. Even so, I feared he would have a great deal of trouble engaging in combat for the next while; the matter of him wielding the Aether was a far more worrisome issue that I would have to concern myself with later.

As Loki and Sif led the way, trailing the river of lava, Thor and I lingered behind to observe the oncoming demons. "Are you certain you should be using the Aether?" Thor asked. "I know how it affects people. It will consume you."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, not wanting to enter into a dispute with Thor while still appreciating his concern. Sighing, I met his gaze and offered a nod. "For now, yes," I replied. "And, you're right, I don't have much time before it must be withdrawn. But we need it."

A bobbing, fiery mass of creatures, the swarm of dreadclaws continued to barrel towards us, a mere dozen yards away now. In the time that it took for them to reach us, I hunkered down and gathered the Aether between my hands. Calling upon the Aether was beginning to sting, for it dug deep into my heart—my life force—whenever I took hold of it.

Throwing out both hands, I loosed a wave of red energy upon the demons. With the understanding that using the Aether further could expend me faster, I withheld much of the power. Even then, it knocked half of the dreadclaws into the other half, stopping every one of them in their tracks. I had not killed many, if any at all, but I bought us the time we needed.

Stooping one last time to retrieve the vessel that contained the Aether, I turned to follow Loki and Sif, pain prickling across my skin still. It would only grow more painful with every use of the Aether, I knew. However, I did not believe that knowledge was going to stop me.

The demons that remained were likely to reach us in minutes, considering our current pace. Pale beyond compare—though no longer grey—Loki ambled alongside the lava flow, guiding us towards a precipice that hovered over a growing lake of magma. "This may require a moment," Loki said, outstretching one hand while keeping the other pressed to his chest, right where his wounds had been. "Nearly dying can take its toll—something with which I have far too much experience."

At that, Thor glanced my way, worry etched into his bloodied brow. He didn't have to speak a single word for me to understand his cause for concern. We were in the worst possible condition we could ever be: Loki was on the verge of death and the greatest weapon we had at our disposal was slowly killing me from the inside. How much time did we have before it was all over? None of us knew where Surtur was or how far he had gotten. All we knew was that he had not attained the Eternal Flame, for the Nine Realms had yet to go up in flames.

"Where do you think this path will take us?" Sif questioned.

Loki reached back to take my hand, the Aether rushing to the surface of my skin to greet his touch. I wondered if he could feel it too, but he made no mention of it upon sparing Sif a brief look. "If you must know... I haven't the faintest idea."

Before any of us could pose further questions, a terrible chill ran through me, overcoming even the warmth of the Aether coursing in my veins. Our surroundings bent and warped in a spectrum of light and colour as everything blurred together, a new world coming into focus.

A blast of cold air gripped my very bones. The shock of it made me take a step back where I nearly stumbled into Thor. _Jotunheim_. Letting loose a quavering breath, Loki looked at me, his hand tightening around mine with renewed determination—though, perhaps, with a weakening strength. "Don't let go." Turning further, he gave a curt nod to Sif and Thor. "Stay close."

We were on a ridge overlooking the vast icy terrain of this wretched realm. Dozens of yards below, a score of Jotuns peered up at us, seemingly sensing our arrival. The very sight of them garnered a sigh from Sif. "I can hardly believe we've encountered them again, of all the Frost Giants in the realm."

Coming up beside us, Thor lifted a brow. "You recognize them?"

Sif chuckled. "Well, I recognize a number of those scowls—and the wound I gave the Jotun on the left."

The Frost Giants scurried to find their way up to the ridge upon which we stood, garnering a scoff from Loki. "We'll be gone before they reach us." He led the way, trudging through the deepening snow. His steps were more sluggish and meandering than usual, and I feared they were only becoming more so.

"You know the pathways of Jotunheim?" I remarked.

Loki glanced back at me, his smirk taking on a self-deprecating air. "Of course I do."

It struck me that he would have learned a significant amount about the pathways to and from Jotunheim, considering what he'd done during Thor's coronation some years ago. My heart dipped at the memory, but Loki didn't seem to give it a second thought. His mind was on other things, no doubt. There was no point in lingering on the past when we had a future to secure.

The next passageway to another world was not far. We wove between two columns of ice, and in the span of a breath, we passed from Jotunheim and appeared in a world notably warmer, if not still gloomy. A field of grass stretched before us, green and vast and forsaken. The perfect terrain to be recalled upon by the Bifrost.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted into the skies as he was wont to do. "We must return to Asgard immediately."

The silence that followed was painfully hollow.

Several long moments passed before the four of us exchanged wary looks. In times of great strife, Heimadall's lack of response was always alarming, even with the understanding that there could have been any number of reasons for it.

"Perhaps Heimdall has chosen not to reopen the Bifrost as a precaution," Sif suggested, peering up at the clouded sky.

"And kept us from returning two Infinity Stones to Asgard? Highly unlikely." Despite his sickly countenance, Loki managed to scoff. "The Rainbow Bridge could be overrun with demons for all we know. We need to keep moving. If Heimdall sees fit to recall us, then he is free to do so."

With a staggering step, Loki started off again, his hand slipping out of mine. I frowned and followed in his wake, trying not to think about what could've been happening in Asgard. We had to find a way to return, no matter what. Tarrying here and fretting over it wasn't going to help anyone.

We crossed a field, wide open and unmarked, the sky growing gloomier as a pall settled overhead. "How do you have any idea of where we're going?" I said, straining to be heard over the rising wind. "Surely you cannot know _every_ pathway in the Nine Realms—aside from those on Muspelheim, of course."

"I did make certain the Asgardians never sealed a specific arrangement of paths." Loki slowed for a moment, never glancing behind, then made an abrupt left towards a thicket of trees. "I charted these routes, depending on where I needed to go, and kept them hidden."

"And you memorized that."

When I blinked, the atmosphere shifted around us once more, and our company of four arrived in a realm far more familiar to me. The sun peeked out from behind small tufts of clouds, basking everything below in its light. We'd appeared near a lake, sunlight shimmering across its surface like a basin of crystals.

On the opposite side, a cottage sat near the shore, seeming much smaller than it really was. Chest tightening, I recognized it in an instant. Weeks had been spent lounging by the lakeside with Castien, Driana, and my ladies-in-waiting. Those were the only days of real peace I found on Alfheim. The tranquility, the quiet, helped me forget that my life had not been my own.

Loki cast me a look. "Well," he said, "I had plenty of time."

We circled around the lake, soft grass rustling beneath our feet. I kept my eyes on the cottage, glad to have seen it one last time, before the end of all things. It had brought me some semblance of calm in the past. On this day, it bestowed upon me a hint of the same. We were not dead. We did not have to be. A relaxing day by a lakeside cottage was something that could still have been in our future.

I took in a deep breath, the smell of grass and clean air soothing, as Loki led us up a hill. When we reached the top, we travelled through yet another pathway.

Upon stepping into the next world, Loki stumbled to a complete halt. The cold and the rain struck me at once, the combination chilling me to the bone. Brow cinched, I peered around him to see a long black road, brick and stone building, and two humans whose familiar faces I was more than grateful to see.

Darcy blinked at us, wide eyed and agape. Agent Barton, on the other hand, appeared far less bemused and far more exasperated. "Seriously? Again?" he said, lowering the arrow he'd had aimed at our head—Loki's head, mostly. "Why do we keep running into each other like this?"

In place of the snide remark we'd all surely been expecting, Loki teetered forwards and collapsed to his knees. I was kneeling at his side before anyone else could react, my hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Inhaling sharply, I tried not to flinch at the chill of his skin. He felt colder than usual though not as icy as his Jotun flesh. His face was far more pallid than I'd ever seen; thankfully, he did not appear to be turning grey.

With my free hand, I laid my palm against his chest to feel his pulse and seek his magic at once. He seemed to shy away from my touch—out of pride, perhaps. But he knew better than to rebuff my care. Through the leather of his armour, I could feel his pulse, fluttery and weak. He'd lost too much blood, and he was further exhausting himself with all the magic he'd been expending. If he did not preserve his energy, there was still a chance that he could die.

When it came time to use the Aether to close the breach into the Netherverse, would his body be able to withstand its power? Would it kill him before the end? I could only hope that one among Asgard's sorcerers would be there to bear that burden. It crossed my mind that I might've been able to make the attempt, though my lack of experience had me doubting my own capabilities. At most, I could have augmented the power of another as I'd done during my apprenticeship.

"I'm fine," Loki said gruffly at last, trying to push away my hands.

"You are not fine," I countered. Then I looked up to find Thor's gaze. "He needs a moment to rest."

Loki loosed a disdainful sigh. "We haven't the time for _rest_."

At that, I quirked a brow. "You'll be no good to us if you can't muster the energy to open a passageway home."

Approaching footsteps made us both snap to attention. Jane Foster came hurrying round the corner of a building, a black leather bound book held close to her face, her focus on the words she'd written in the pages keeping her from noticing our presence. "I think I know where I went wrong with the calibrations," she said. "We're going to have to tell Erik—"

She staggered to a stop, frozen in place, her eyes finding those of Thor in an instant.

His smile was immediate as they neared one another. "Jane." After but a moment of hesitation, he leaned down to press his brow to hers. "You're all right."

"I can't believe you're here," Jane murmured. "We were afraid you weren't going to show." She drew back, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly, before glancing at the rest of us. "I was starting to worry you were dead. What happened? After that—that thing came out of the ground, we never heard from you, and SHIELD isn't being straight with me."

"That's because we don't know shit about what's happening," Agent Barton retorted.

"Well, as you can plainly see, Odin saw fit not to execute us," Loki chimed in, reaching up to grasp my hand. "Surtur seeks to set the Nine Realms aflame, killing everyone and everything. We have been condemned to averting Ragnarök, a fate marginally worse than an execution, it seems."

With a deadpan expression, Darcy gestured round the street upon which we'd appeared. "So I guess that explains why hell has literally broken loose."

Employing a more attentive look now that I was certain Loki would not die in the next few moments, I surveyed the damage done unto the street. Scorch marks and lingering flames marred the roadside, broken glass and stone littering all within sight. Vehicles were overturned and shoved to the sides of the road, as if a stampede of demons hurtled through them— _a stampede of demons likely did_.

"Jane, if we survive this day, I will explain everything," Thor promised. "Right now, we must find our way back to Asgard and stop Surtur before it is too late."

Jane Foster seemed to jump at that. "Wait!" She turned and motioned towards the strange contraptions I recognized from the day Surtur rose from the heart of Midgard. "We knew those things were coming through, and they were somehow... manipulating the energy the same way you were." Snapping her notebook shut, she nodded towards Loki. "We were trying to find a way to shut these pathways based on what Loki told me when we were on the Helicarrier."

"Nat is somewhere in the city helping Selvig and the intern do the same thing," Agent Barton told us. "We're hoping to slow them down, keep them out, but we're doing a pretty crap job so far."

Both Jane and Darcy cast him wry looks. Even so, Jane rubbed at her forehead and scurried over to the nearest rod-like device, prodding at the screen along with various accompanying dials. "The calibrations must still be off," Jane uttered hurriedly. "It's doing the opposite of what I meant. It might have even pulled you here, to this point. Was this the spot you were aiming for?"

"There's nothing that needs aiming when travelling by these paths." Though she frowned, misunderstanding the nuance, Loki still glanced left and right, discerning our location with a familiarity I did not realize he had. "In short, no, this is not where we were supposed to appear, even if we are nearer to our actual destination," he said. "You can concern yourself with sealing these paths later. Our objective is far more pressing, I would have you know."

Agent Barton gave a short, humourless laugh. "Is that your way of saying you need our help?"

Before Loki could provide a scathing remark alongside his sneer, I laid a hand on his chest, my fingers at the edges of his recently healed wounds. "Yes, we require your assistance," I said with a nod. "And we have very little time."

Perhaps grasping the gravity of the situation, Agent Barton was the first to move. Gesturing for us to follow, he turned and headed in the direction from which Jane Foster had come. "Then get in the truck. It would be really great if the world didn't end today. Can't say it's nice to see you"—he shot Loki a glare—"but you know we'll help. Doctor Foster, grab your gear." As he passed her by, he hefted up one of the poles she'd been tinkering with earlier.

Jane was swift to gather her things with the assistance of Darcy. Once I helped Loki to his feet, we trailed after Barton round the corner to where they'd stowed their vehicle. The 'truck' was different from the other human vehicles I'd seen. There was only room enough inside the carriage for three. Behind it was a flat framed with metal on all sides—a wagon of sorts. It seemed to make it simpler to load their equipment, for Agent Barton all but tossed Jane's machinery into the wagon.

Following suit, Darcy circled the vehicle to the driver's side. "Mind if I drive?"

"Hell yes, I mind." With a huff, Barton smacked a hand against the door to keep her from entering. "The last time I let you drive, you almost hit a phone booth."

She paused for a moment, then exclaimed, "I call shotgun."

In their wake, Jane struggled with the last of her gear until Thor came to her rescue in an instant, grabbing all that was left with one hand. They exchanged a smile, and while he headed for the vehicle, she turned to glance over the remaining three of us. "Agent Barton might not be glad to see you, but I am." Striding to meet us, Jane made to hug me but hesitated upon seeing the blood splattered on the front of my armour. "Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I cast Loki a glance, my heart jolting a little at the sight of him. In the pale light and gloomy downpour, he looked like death. "It's not my blood."

Sif shifted beside me and cleared her throat. "We should go. There will surely be more demons to come."

"She's right." Thor came to join us, expression grim. "If Surtur is using Earth as a connection between Muspelheim and Asgard, then I fear we are lingering right in their path."

We followed the humans to their vehicle, Jane moving to sit on the lefthand side of the cabin once Barton took to the driver's seat. While Loki, Sif, and I advanced towards the rear wagon, Thor remained standing on the road, his eyes trained on the street in our wake, Mjolnir clutched close.

I climbed into the truck first, crouching beside the window that opened into the vehicle's cabin. In the midst of preparing the vehicle for what lay ahead, Agent Barton appeared to be speaking to those not present via the small communications device in his ear. "You'll never guess who showed up just in the nick of time."

Lifting a brow, I leaned closer to catch his eye. "If Agent Romanoff is in the city, I can only presume the rest of the Avengers are among us."

Barton gave an offhanded nod. "Yep, gang's all here. Sounds like Cap met up with some of your warrior friends—Fandral and Hogun?" I felt a spark of relief, knowing that they had reached Midgard and remained able to carry out their duties. "They're trying to secure the area. Having a giant flaming monster rise from the earth was kind of a big deal. We all came running when that happened."

As soon as the words left his lips, a familiar roar resounded in the distance. _The Hulk_. Meeting each other's gazes through the rear cabin window, we managed to share a dry smile.

Wordless, Loki hefted himself into the wagon last, ignoring Sif's offer of assistance. Despite his scowl, his show of physical capability was somewhat reassuring. He was not dead yet and had a chance of seeing this through. Shutting the wagon's hatch, he sat beside me, legs outstretched, Jane's devices piled at his feet.

"You're gonna have to give me some direction here." Agent Barton's voice was accompanied by an unfurled map flying through the cabin window, nearly striking Loki in the face. The large square of parchment was followed by a writing utensil, which Loki caught in midair. "Mark it on the map. I'll take it from there."

With prompt, deliberate movements, Loki folded the map into quarters and drew a large black circle around one particular segment of road before sketching the route we would take. Then he thrust the map behind him, over the edge of the wagon, almost hitting Thor in the face. "Remember this route. You best clear the road ahead."

Thor hesitated and looked to Sif. At her nod, he lifted a brow at Loki. "With might such a mine, there is no question I can defend the fore. Can you defend our rear?"

Eyes narrowed, Loki did not deign to supply an answer. Considering the state he was in, I doubted he had the strength—not that he would ever admit to it. He simply turned and shoved the map through the cabin window, clipping Agent Barton in the ear as he did so. "Here. I trust you'll get us there."

"Yeah, yeah." Giving the map little more than a cursory glance, Barton snatched it out of Loki's hand and tossed it aside.

In mere seconds, our vehicle tore down the street. We weaved a little clumsily around several abandoned cars, but we never slowed and we were never hindered. Thor took to the air seconds later, soaring yards above, outpacing us in mere moments. He turned the first corner long before we did, and the sharp buzz of electricity lingered in the air.

We travelled down the road, undisturbed for a surprising amount of time. In those moments, I cast a look around at the streets and buildings flying past us, curiosity tugging at the back of my mind. "You have me wondering," I said, glancing back at Loki. "Did you commit certain pathways to memory more so than others? It's no coincidence that we've arrived back in London."

"I know the paths of London better than most." Loki rose to a crouch, peering down the street, through the rain. "These are the routes we would have taken had you not chosen to marry Castien."

 _He had it all planned out_. Chest tightening, I leaned forward to clasp his cold hand in mine. "I never chose Castien over you."

Loki peered over at me, lips parted with unspoken words. Words that were interrupted by the high-pitched howl of incoming demons. The very sound of it rattled the air, straining my eardrums. We both turned our attention to the skies, squinting against the downpour to sight our enemy.

Letting our conversation to fall to the wayside, Loki actually had the audacity to sigh. "This never ends, does it?"

Pulse pounding in my ears, I stamped down my trepidation and somehow found it in myself to smile. "What is it the humans say?" I asked. "'No rest for the wicked'?"

Casting me a smirk that was likely far more feeble than he intended, he moved closer to the opposite side of the wagon, one hand clutching the ledge. In seconds, a stream of flying demons dove from above the clouds, shrieks echoing all around, their massive membranous wings whipping the air. _Wyverns_ , I thought. _With teeth as sharp as a dragon's and talons as large as those of the dreadclaws we encountered earlier._ In response, I extended my hand, prepared to unleash the Aether upon them all, but Loki grasped my arm and gently pulled me back.

"Don't—not unless it's absolutely necessary," he said.

Just as I was about to ask how this did not constitute as being absolutely necessary, Agent Barton leaned out the window to take aim with a large-barrelled firearm. Beside him, Darcy had taken hold of the wheel, her eyes wide as she looked back at the demons in our wake. A round shot through the sky and erupted in midair, the subsequent flames consuming five demons at once. They collapsed to the ground, dead, though their deaths went entirely ignored by those that came behind them: another two dozen winged demons, each more eager to snatch us than the last.

I lifted a brow at Loki. "How is this not absolutely necessary?"

With a mock glare in my direction, he shoved past Sif to open one of the cases sitting at the rear of the wagon. Reaching inside, he pulled out a quiver and a collapsed bow, which he unfolded with a single shake. Once he tossed the quiver to the floor of the wagon, he began launching arrow after arrow, his hand surprisingly steady considering his condition. Each and every one whistled through the air, hitting wyverns in the head and the heart with striking precision.

"Hey!" Agent Barton shouted over his shoulder, having returned to operating the vehicle once more. "I never said you could touch my gear."

"Keep your gaze on the road, Agent Barton," Loki retorted. "None of us would benefit from you crashing this vehicle, least of all your gear." Even with Barton's interruption, his aim remained true, felling demons in rapid succession.

In the absence of any response from Agent Barton, I wedged my shoulder against the side of the truck. "You never told me you were proficient with a bow and arrow."

The corner of Loki's mouth quirked upwards. "You never asked." Nocking two arrows, he shot another two winged demons out of the sky, the ensuing explosion taking down a third. "I would have proved a better teacher than Fandral ever was."

I almost laughed at that. "You barely had enough patience to tutor me in magic. I sincerely doubt you would've tolerated my complete lack of skill with a bow."

He smirked in return but never sought to refute my assumption.

As trying as it was, I withheld using the Aether. With little trouble, Loki continued to fell the demons from the skies as Sif skewered any that dared to near our vehicle. Just as I began to think the Aether would not be needed until we reached Asgard, a thunderous roar shook the very air itself. Suddenly, the wyverns fluttering after us became the least of our concerns.

An army of dreadclaws appeared in our wake, having turned a corner to trod the road upon which we ventured. One among them was far more imposing than the rest, standing a noticeable four feet taller than those around it, leading the charge— _an alpha dreadclaw_ , I mused. Loki took aim at the alpha, launching arrow after arrow at the creature. Not a single quarrel seemed to affect the monster, and it continued to storm towards us unhindered.

My initial thought was to send for Thor's assistance, an idea that was quickly dashed by the sounds of howls and thunder ahead of us. He had his own demons to contend with. We could not continue on the road should he stray from clearing our path. And yet our problems only seemed to grow in number.

Faster than the dreadclaws, a pack of helhounds wove through the horde, gaining on our vehicle with frightening speed. It was Jane's turn to lean out of her window, dropping three devices diagonally across the breadth of the road, each standing upright by their lonesome. Seconds passed before the helhounds crossed between them. As they did so, the air wavered and they vanished much like the Dark Elves had at the height of the Convergence.

I gave Jane a curious look, and she beamed in return. "Thank God they still work."

Unfortunately, the devices could not avert the dreadclaws. The creatures, with their crooked claw, scrambled up the sides of buildings to avoid the contraptions altogether.

Kneeling at the very rear of the wagon, Loki unleashed a volley of arrows upon every demon in sight. Despite the acuity of Loki's attacks, it sometimes required two strikes to tear down the dreadclaws, slowing him just enough to allow a wyvern to slip gain on us.

Heart in my throat, I pressed myself back against the cabin of the vehicle, my eyes following the creature in anticipation of its landing. When it alighted on the starboard side, claws digging into the metal, it scrabbled to reach Agent Barton through the driver's side window. Without hesitation, Sif climbed onto the rooftop of the cabin and stabbed the beast through the chest. As it reared back with a screech, she withdrew her blade and sliced off a wing for good measure. Even after it collapsed on the road in a heap, the sting of panic only grew when I saw the greater numbers approaching, stealing past our defences.

The demons pursued us in full force, filling the road and air alike. Worse still, a horde of helhounds emerged from an adjacent road, joining forces with the remaining dreadclaws and their alpha. A dozen wyverns soared just above them, their huge wingspan beating the air hard enough to generate a squall in the rain. For all the combined efforts of those around me, the demons were on the verge of overwhelming us.

With a deep breath, I drew up on one knee and thrust out a hand. My whole body burned, and I forced myself to ignore the warnings blaring in the back of my mind. Brandishing the Aether, I swept half of helhounds and wyverns aside, the impact hurling them bodily into the buildings on either side of the road. Either Barton was startled by the Aether or the force of the blast set him off course, for the vehicle swerved, unsteady on the rain-slicked roads. Nevertheless, I did not stop, not even for a second.

I wrapped the wyverns above in the Aether, slamming them into the helhounds below, the disarray slowing the dreadclaws behind. Loki stopped loosing his arrows and turned to stare at me—it was just as well, considering the violent gale the Aether was starting to stir. The air swirled on all sides, a tempest tinged in blood red.

Wielding the Aether was strangely intoxicating. To have such power at my fingertips, I felt like nothing could stop me. Like I was truly immortal as the humans once believed our kind to be. And yet, it gave rise to an ache inside. It smouldered in my heart, a gradually burgeoning spark that sought to consume me. But it seemed of so little consequence when there was so much at stake.

All before me blurred together as I yanked demons from the sky, tossing them towards the alpha dreadclaw and its followers to slow them down. The effort of employing the Aether drained me, and my vision soon became unfocussed. As I lost my concentration, I failed to notice the dreadclaws leaping from a building on our vehicle's starboard side until it was too late.

One dreadclaw crashed into the driver's side window, forcing us off the road and into a building bedecked in glass. Jagged shards rained upon us as our we swerved, off balance. But Agent Barton did not let the vehicle stop, instead driving further into the building, wheels screeching in a desperate vie for traction. The few seconds it required for us to pick up speed again were a few seconds too many.

The alpha dreadclaw had all but closed the distance between us. It entered the building shortly after we did, now mere yards from the tail end of our wagon, teeth chomping in anticipation. Heart in my throat, I clambered to my feet to loose a blast, but paused, looking upwards, another idea dawning. Metal beams and glass lined the ceiling above, and all of it was being supported by heavy stone columns spread throughout the building's entrance hall.

Loki must have known what I was thinking, for he called my name, his tone questioning. Paying little heed to his doubts, I outstretched my hands, towards the ceiling. It was strange to see the Aether—a most ancient and powerful magic—obey my every whim, the red tendrils soaring high to tangle with the columns and the beams holding the building above.

Racing ahead of the horde, the alpha dreadclaw roared, one claw extended and reaching towards me. " _Witch_." The alpha spoke with Surtur's voice. Fear gripped me, even as I had the power of the Aether at my fingertips. " _You cannot stop me. It is already too late._ "

Though my heart sank, I did not hesitate to bring the building down. With the sheer might of the Aether, I systematically tore the beams and columns apart, dropping them upon the dreadclaws. As pieces of the building showered from above, the alpha dreadclaw reached out, aiming to strike me down. Right then, Loki's arms wrapped around my waist, heaving me backwards. As he did so, the demon's claws missed my face by a mere hairsbreadth, tearing through the hatch of the wagon seconds before the creature was buried beneath metal and stone.

Amidst the bedlam, I was barely aware of the howls and the echoing _CRASH_ filling my ears. The speed of our vehicle increased exponentially and we escaped the building seconds before the rubble collapsed upon us.

Once we were on the road again, the demons now dead or having fallen far behind, my breath abandoned me. I stumbled back, clutching my chest, vision tunnelling. Gentle hands caught me, keeping me from crumpling right then and there. I nearly bit my tongue, trying not to cry out at the feeling of the Aether churning in my chest, twining with my life force.

I fought to open my eyes when Loki eased me to the floor, lifting my chin to meet my gaze. Whatever he saw there made him draw back. "What is it?" My voice was remarkably hoarse, sounding like I had been screaming for hours on end. "Has the Aether already taken its toll?"

Loki said nothing of what perturbed him so, instead raising his head to peer over the stern of our vehicle, in the direction of our buried foes. "The power that flows through your veins..."

"It's killing me, Loki," I whispered. My hands trembled as they sought his. "I can feel it. Consuming me."

Though he frowned, he did not offer any platitudes of reassurance. No promises that everything was going to be fine. I could see it in his expression, etched so deeply in his features. He was just as worried as I was. He was scared. We both heard what Surtur said via the dreadclaw. _It is already too late_. But we could not believe it to be true. Not until all had truly seen its end.

Sif appeared over his shoulder then, brow furrowed. "Eirlys, are you all right?"

Not wanting to add to her concerns, I smiled as wryly as I could through the ache expanding in my chest. "None of us seem to be having a good day." I could feel the Aether eating away at me. Claws digging ever deeper. Teeth consuming me from the inside. The power I'd unleashed was foreign and unfathomable. I doubted I could ever wield it to such an extent again.

We made another sharp left turn, our vehicle skidding along the wet road, struggling to straighten. As we continued onwards, the gnawing throb in my chest subsided, and I regained strength enough to sit upright. Shoulders tense, Loki watched me for a lengthy period of time, hands hovering over me, fearing that I would shatter from the lightest touch.

"Do not fret," I told him. "I am not dead yet."

His smile, slight as it was, appeared quite noticeably feigned. "Somehow, I don't find that very reassuring."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Darcy jump in her seat and jab at the map in her hold. "I think this is it," she said.

The vehicle came to a sudden halt, jerking us all forwards.

In an instant, Loki rose and proffered his hand to me. "It appears we have reached our destination, clumsy as the humans were getting us here."

From the driver's seat, Agent Barton scoffed. "Let's see how well you drive when you've got a building collapsing around you. Someone's gonna have to pay for that mess, by the way."

My legs quivered beneath me as I stood, my fingers wrapped around Loki's in an unrelenting grip. With a deep breath, I pushed past the drain the Aether had put on me and allowed him to lead me across the vehicle. Agent Barton opened the rear panel—or what remained—rain pattering against it loudly in the silence. When Loki and I clambered out of the vehicle first, my legs near buckled beneath me.

Pausing, Loki peered down at me, the rain making his hair stick to his forehead. At my nod of reassurance, he left my side and strode ahead to observe the atmosphere yards to the left of the vehicle.

The rest of our human allies exited, Jane moving to stand at my side. "Was that the Aether? I've never seen anything like that."

"It was."

Her brow furrowed. "It... could it kill you?"

"It can… It is." I pressed a hand to my chest, over my heart. "I have little time before it must be removed."

The furrow in her brow deepened. It was easy to assume that she had a myriad of questions, but I hadn't the opportunity to explain. The moment Loki returned, he gave no more than a nod. And I knew. This was it. We were about to come face to face with Surtur for the final time. Either he would be banished from this plane of existence forever. Or we were all about to die.

A sudden gale whirled the downpour around us, and everyone looked up to see Thor descending from on high, alighting on the ground in front of Sif. "Is everyone all right?" he asked, glancing over the rest of us. No one bothered to answer, but he seemed satisfied nevertheless. "Are we ready?"

"As much as we can be," Sif replied.

Moving to stand across from Jane, Thor breathed deep, his shoulders visibly rising and falling from the effort. "Jane..."

"I know..." Jane did not hesitate to close the distance between them and draw him into a kiss.

While most in our company were unfazed by their show of affection, I noticed Sif averting her gaze and turning away from them. She was also the first to cut through the silence. "It has been an honour fighting alongside you." With a fist over her chest, Sif gave a short bow to the humans before advancing towards Loki, ready to follow his lead.

Loki, of course, said nothing to the humans. Hand outstretched, he merely ambled about to pinpoint the exact position of our next passage. Even as he looked ailing and ashen, it was still difficult to believe he'd been on the brink of death a short while ago. It gave credence to the notion that the Aether surpassed the might of any sorcerer in the Nine Realms, bringing him back from what was surely a certain death.

Stomach churning, I loosed a breath and prepared to say my farewells. Darcy and Agent Barton stood side by side, their sombre expressions mirroring one another. In Barton's case, this was nothing out of the ordinary. For Darcy, on the other hand, I saw it as a grim indication that what we were about to face was something that even she could not make japes about. "I must ask that you remain safe—as safe as possible, considering..." I let my shoulders fall before nodding to Jane Foster. "And I thank you all for your efforts. I fear we must continue forth without you."

Jane drew closer and pulled me into a hug. "Be careful."

With little else passing between us, I turned to join Loki and Sif. When Thor followed shortly thereafter, the humans stepped back to maintain what I could only assume to be a minimal safe distance. "The moment we return to Asgard, you best close this passage," Loki told Jane. There was no sneer in his expression, just simple courtesy. "We might fare somewhat better absent the possibility of demons following us this way."

Jane Foster nodded and hastened back to the vehicle to retrieve her rod-like devices. Upon returning, she glanced between the two of us, holding her instruments close. "Good luck." The words hung in the air. Lips parted, she seemed to want to say more, yet she refrained. Time would not permit.

I managed to respond with a faint smile before Loki took my hand. He did not impart a single other word to them as we marched to our left, the pathway opening before us. Light and colour bent and wavered, leading us from Midgard to Asgard. Our surroundings blurred in and out of focus until the streets of London were gone, replaced now by the sprawling fields of Asgard—fields covered in snow and flame, skiffs falling from the sky in tandem with smouldering wyverns.

The sheer cacophony battered my awareness, explosions and ear-splitting howls reverberating in my ears. Snow drifted all around us, most of it never reaching the ground on account of the rising heat. My gaze fell upon my friends, taking in their wellbeing, the burns and scrapes and smears of blood. When Sif glanced over my shoulder, she blanched at whatever was just outside my line of sight. Whirling about, I found what she saw.

One could never miss Surtur in the heart of a crowd. Or a city, as it were.

The fiery colossus was closer to his intended destination than I had hoped. From our vantage, I estimated that Surtur was within a mile of the palace—a short number of steps for one so massive. He smashed past building after building, the partly reforged blade of his broken sword tearing apart the Golden Realm. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps we were already too late.

A hundred skiffs circled Surtur, unleashing the might of every weapon Asgard had at its disposal. It did little, if anything at all. The battlefield around us was littered with more bodies than I had ever seen in my entire lifetime. Scores upon scores of warriors from all corners of the Nine Realms had given their lives—Dwarves, Elves, Aesir, and Vanir alike. Blood glistered, stark and vibrant against the field of white, and no amount of freshly fallen snow could dampen the red.

Aside from the towering visage of Surtur, the sight of his forces was enough to strike fear in my heart. In little more than a single glance, there was no doubt in my mind that his demons outnumbered every single one of our fellows in arms combined. I thought I had seen war when we fought Thanos. I thought I had seen war when we saw battle in Vanaheim, a battle that took the life of my father and nearly that of Volstagg. Yet none of those conflicts compared to this.

Since arriving, we'd been undisturbed by the enemy, though we had a clear view of the battlefront. We were mere yards behind a wave of demons, presumably having used the passageway we just had. They were pushing against a stalwart company of Einherjar who, despite being outnumbered, were certainly not outmatched.

Hand slipping from mine, Loki took several steps forward, staring across the cold field of death. There, amongst the ruins of the city, a single bright beam of yellow shot upwards from the ground— _Gungnir_. Surtur never looked back at the source, perhaps knowing better than to attack targets too small for his ponderous hand. Perhaps he didn't care that it was Odin. He never slowed. He never deviated from his path. He was so close to retrieving the Eternal Flame. There was no sense in killing the pests around him when he could burn them all in one fell swoop.

After several long seconds, Loki looked back at us, brow cinched. "We need to reach Odin." Even in the midst of such turmoil, he grimaced, perhaps still resentful of having to depend on the All-Father. "We might only have minutes before Surtur rends the palace asunder."

"Surely you cannot be suggesting that we fight our way to the All-Father," Sif said, gesturing at the horde of demons with the shake of her sword. "It would take too long."

"Then we find a skiff to take us to him," I stated.

Wordless, Loki gave me a single nod, and we set off across the field, snow and cinders crunching underfoot. With every step, it became more and more difficult for me to take the next. The Aether was feeding from my life force now. I was dying slowly, sliver by sliver, as though I were bleeding out, albeit with less of the agony. It meant, at the least, that I could press onwards. I could not stop. I refused to let the Aether get the better of me.

A skiff exploded in midair, just yards above our heads. Another careened out of the sky and crashed in flames some ways to our left. Our chances of finding a skiff to help us were growing slimmer by the moment. I felt tempted to unleash the Aether and demolish every demon in our path, but Loki cast me a sharp glance like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

In the end, I did not need to take action. A skiff made its approach at last, weaving through the wyverns, arrows streaking from the deck and never missing their marks. The skiff dove down, coming to a smooth stop several feet in front of us. My heart all but jumped into my throat when Faradei stood tall in the stern of the skiff, longbow in hand, blond hair billowing in the breeze.

"Thank the Norns you've returned." He leaned over the edge of the skiff and offered a hand. "I presume you wish to reach the All-Father. He is making his final stand against Surtur."

I nodded and climbed into the skiff with his assistance. "Then we have no time to lose."

The rest of my company followed in short order, and the skiff rose into the sky without preamble. From on high, we could see Surtur all too clearly. No matter what our forces threw at him, he did not react beyond the halfhearted swipe of his hand. The skiffs surrounding him were mere fruit flies flitting around his meal.

The howl of the wind was deafening as we closed the distance between us and Surtur yard by yard. We had only minutes until we dove headfirst into the fray, the fate of the Cosmos in our hands.

"What will happen once we reach Father?" Thor's voice thundered over the gale. "I know you both intend to banish Surtur to the Netherverse, but I have come to question what that truly means. It's not as simple as that, is it?"

Loki leaned back against the side of the skiff in some attempt at nonchalance. In reality, he just looked exhausted. "Did you figure that out all on your own?"

Thor frowned and looked in my direction, eyes narrowing. "When Father told me of his plan, I did not question the dangers because I had no desire to hamper our efforts by quarrelling with him," he said to me. "But you know. You know what banishing Surtur entails."

Glancing at Loki, I expected him to interject. But he said nothing. There was no sense in hiding a truth they would learn in mere moments. "Odin means to tear open a breach in the universe and allow Surtur to be drawn in. If we should fail in sealing that breach, we could very well end the Cosmos ourselves."

Everyone onboard the skiff stared at me, wide eyed, including the Light Elves who'd been pretending not to heed our conversation.

"We have no choice," Loki remarked, disrupting the silence at last. "We cannot allow Surtur to reach the Eternal Flame, and we have no other way of stopping him."

With the shake of her head, Sif glanced between me and Loki. "I have no intention of disputing this plan," she said, "but what of those nearest to Surtur? They continue to hold his attention and slow his efforts. Surely they would be pulled into the breach as well."

Face drawn, Loki peered over at me. "They would."

"An acceptable loss," Thor muttered, the words spoken like an echo of something he'd heard before.

"And were you to seal the breach yourself?" Faradei asked me.

"Not me." I pressed my fingers to my eyes in the hopes of warding away the red haze that had begun to threaten my vision. The Aether was likely to kill me before I could even attempt closing the breach. "That would have been left to Loki. But now that he's been wounded, one of Asgard's sorcerers may have to do what we cannot."

Expression growing grim, Faradei exchanged a look with one of his captains. "I fear the sorcerers of Asgard dead."

My heart sank. "All of them?"

Faradei gave a single, solemn nod. "There were eight sorcerers called to Asgard, some on the battlefield, some not. But the demons sought them out with singleminded focus, slaughtering every one of them and their Einherjar protectors."

Swallowing thickly, I let my eyes drop to the floor of the skiff. Surtur must have known what we were planning. Perhaps he'd known before even we did. It gave reason to why he had been so eager to kill me on Niffleheim. He feared what we could do with the Aether, thus he kept Malekith from the battlefield, sending the Infinity Stone as far from Asgard as possible. Now, we had an advantage, despite the dwindling number of sorcerers in our midst.

"We have sent for Lord Meyrick and Lady Freya, who have been safeguarding the people in Nidavellir. However, I doubt the Bifrost can operate as Heimdall struggles to defend the bridge from demons," Faradei told us, confirming my earlier suspicions about the Rainbow Bridge. "Worse still, Surtur has launched an attack on Nidavellir, so there would be little opportunity to transport them here in any case."

"Surtur knows they are there." Lifting my head, I shared a look with Loki. We both understood that I was incapable of closing the breach, especially considering that the Aether already depleted me so. It was a task left to him now.

"Then I will take it," Loki said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Someone has to close the breach when Odin opens it. It will kill us all if I don't."

Though my heart ached with trepidation, I nodded in assent. Not that any disagreement on my part would have stopped him.

"Then we must focus our efforts on protecting you and the All-Father when the time comes," Sif remarked.

To my right, Thor lowered his head, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. "We will need a distraction, to slow Surtur down—to buy us time and allow those on the ground to retreat."

Sif stood near the bow of the skiff to peer over the ruined city. "Your Highness, with your archers in the air, perhaps they would provide the distraction that we need."

Brow furrowed, Faradei glanced at his archers and hesitated. At first, I assumed their lack of response stemmed from dismay at the prospect of being little more than a diversion. But the glisten of Faradei's eyes made me think their silence was not born of pride. It was born of fear.

"Should you so choose, I will join your skiffs," Thor said. "Together, we must clear the battlefield of our warriors and ensure that Surtur and his demons do not interfere with our plans."

I expected Loki to refute the idea that anyone in the vicinity of the palace could be saved from what was to come, but he brooked no argument. His words would not have stopped Thor just like mine would not have stopped Loki.

Shoulders rising and falling with a heavy breath, Sif looked to me. "Then you and I shall defend Loki and the All-Father on the ground. With sword and shield."

I had little opportunity to do much more than impart a shaky smile when our skiff began its descent into the crumbling city. The golden structures of Asgard collapsed and burned under the burden of Surtur's demons. Wyverns swarmed about, battling skiffs in the skies, sending both crashing into buildings and the road below. Dreadclaws and helhounds scurried over cobblestone, waging against the Einherjar who held fast in every bottleneck they formed.

Faradei's archers pressed close to the sides of the skiff, unleashing a bevy of arrows upon the demons that sought to impede us. We flew parallel to the roads beneath, rushing southward, towards the palace. Towards Surtur. He loomed over all of us, mere steps from the palace—literally, for him. The golden beam of Gungnir flickered every so often in a meagre attempt to stall the God of Flame.

The Light Elves aimed below, clearing a path to Odin and the company of Asgard's finest Einherjar steadfast at his side. Once we dipped down to ground level, the skiff jerked to a halt. My friends disembarked in an instant, but I lingered for the only spare second I had. Amidst the smoke and falling snow, I turned to face Faradei, words dallying on the tip of my tongue.

"Fortune be with you," he said. "We will see one another when this is all over."

Dotted with fire and death, the winter landscape reminded me all too much of the day Castien died. My throat constricted at the thought of Faradei meeting the same fate. "May the Norns watch over you, my friend." With quaking hands, I gripped the edge of the skiff and vaulted over, landing in a crouch, my knees brushing the snow. The skiff rose once more into the air, but I did not have the heart to watch it go.

Loki, Sif, and Thor were halfway to Odin by the time I turned to seek them out. For the first time in over a week, Odin had the poise befitting of the All-Father: tall and strong and powerful. I could truly sense the energy he carried within him, a dark energy he must have summoned for hours on end. He stood now, prepared to invoke magic of a questionable nature.

The All-Father's gaze flitted over me for a fleeting moment before settling upon Thor and Loki. "Our sorcerers are dead," Odin said, expression stony and implacable. "We are now all that stands between Surtur and the Eternal Flame."

"I know," Loki snapped.

Unfazed by Loki's tone, Odin looked at him straight on. "Then I must simply trust that you will do all that is necessary to defeat Surtur."

Even if Loki did not provide any acknowledgement in response, there was some semblance of deference in his eyes.

"Wait." Thor stepped ahead of Loki to tower over his father. "I know what will happen when you tear open a breach into the Netherverse. It will drag in everyone in the immediate vicinity, including the Einherjar and all the warriors who have been fighting for us. Give me some time to get them clear."

Odin raised his head, unmoved. "We have not the time. Surtur grows nearer to the Flame with every passing second."

"We've lost enough of our people," Thor pleaded. "Let me save some of them from whatever the Netherverse would bring."

"I would not risk the precious few moments that remain to us," Odin said. "Now that we possess the Aether, I have no reason to wait."

When Thor moved to dispute him once more, Odin turned upon him with a thunderous gaze. "You will do as I say," he declared. "I am your king."

Thor bristled at that but did not seek to reply. Nor was he dissuaded in the slightest. Jaw clenched, he strode past Odin's company of Einherjar and approached the nearest passing warrior, grabbing his arm. "We must withdraw from the battlefield," he told him. "Take a skiff and spread the word. The Elves and I will hold the demons back from above."

The son of Odin shot his father one last look before trudging through the wreckage to take to the skies. Even as the All-Father frowned, I knew full well that he was going to open the breach regardless of whether or not Thor was in range of the danger.

Without another word, Odin began his march towards the great bringer of Ragnarök, lifting his spear as a signal. The company of Einherjar that remained at his command charged the battlefield to cast aside every demon that sought to hinder his path.

When the All-Father called forth the sharp crackle of dark energy I'd sensed within him before, Surtur came to a short stop, likely having sensed it too. He turned in place, his movements seeming slow by virtue of his enormous frame—a fact that we could use to our advantage. I wondered if the flame giant knew what Odin was about to attempt, though perhaps it was of little consequence. Surtur would endeavour to take his life one way or another.

"We can't stay here!" Sif shouted over the sudden clangour of warriors clashing with demons. "If Surtur takes a swing, he will set afire everything in the path of his sword."

Loki gave her a nod and took hold of my arm, the Aether flaring along my skin in reaction to his touch. "We must exercise caution and keep our distance until we are needed."

When we started off at a run, I glanced back to see Sif following several feet behind us, her gaze never leaving the All-Father. We did not draw nearer or further from Odin, instead moving circuitous to his position. "Have we not already been exercising caution?"

"I nearly died an hour ago." He arched a brow in jest, though the deathly paleness of his face detracted from his humour. "I was hoping we could do a little better than that."

As we hastened along the battlefield, Surtur completed his turn at last, grasping his sword with both hands now. Dozens of skiffs darted around the colossus, arrows and Asgardian cannon fire striking Surtur in an attempt to divert his attention. But he paid them no mind, his fiery gaze focussed upon the All-Father and the growing corona of dark energy before him.

In anticipation of an attack, Thor plunged from on high, a streak of red and silver light. On all sides, every skiff in the vicinity rose and dove around Surtur, unleashing the full extent of their might. A brilliant flash lit the sky, followed by the heavy clap of thunder. Electricity struck Surtur in the face, the flickering charge travelling up and down his vast frame. He roared, body seizing, his downward swing stalled, even if only for a moment.

Of course, whatever amount relief we received this day never lasted long. With one hand, Surtur reached up, faster than any one of us seemed to expect, and snatched Thor right out of the air. A number of people on the field drew to a short stop at the sight of Thor caught in Surtur's grasp. Sif even took a step closer to the horror above, out of some hopeless desire to stop it, but Loki grabbed her arm to keep her from wandering any further into the jumble of warriors and demons.

Verily, no action of hers would have made an impact. I, on the other hand, certainly had the means to. Throwing out both hands, I brandished the Aether without thought and gave shape to a red tether around Surtur's leg. Agony bursting in my chest, I closed my fists tight and heaved as hard as I could. The sheer might behind the Infinity Stone threw the colossus off balance, forcing him to loosen his hold on Thor, but not enough to allow his escape.

Unable to regain his footing, Surtur stumbled back into the lowest tiers of the palace, dropping heavily to one knee, crushing the aqueducts beneath him. Taking advantage, Thor freed one of his hands—freed Mjolnir—and summoned the greatest current of electricity I had ever born witness to. The charge _CRACKED_ through the air, the sky growing dark before flashing so bright that everyone recoiled and shielded their eyes. A massive _BOOM_ resounded, and the lightning surged from Thor to Surtur, continuously channelled by Mjolnir.

Even in his struggle to move, Surtur managed to sling Thor through the air like an angry child tossing aside a toy. Unable to recover his strength, the Prince of Asgard landed over a mile away, beyond our line of sight. For the moment, Surtur seemed stunned, remnants of electricity flowing through his entire being still. We'd bought Odin some time. But was it enough to complete the spell? The question drifted across my mind before the Aether began to engulf me in earnest.

The Aether pulled taut deep within my chest, stealing my breath. I fell to my knees, one hand braced against the ground, the other clutched to my heart in a futile attempt to protect it from the all-consuming force of the stone inside me. I heard someone call my name, but I was too transfixed by the sight of red energy rippling the surface of my skin to identify the speaker.

 _At long last, it is about to kill me_.

Pale hands grasped my wrists, pale as the snow under my fingers. I blinked, my regard struggling to focus on Loki as he eased me upright. He was kneeling before me, hands trembling almost imperceptibly, his eyes glistening in the ashen light. "The Aether is killing me," I breathed.

He let go of my wrists and cupped my face, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones. I wondered what he saw, for his expression darkened, the furrow of his brow deepening. "I know. I have to take it from you." From my belt, he withdrew the Soul Stone and held it between us. "I won't stab you with the stone, mind you, but I suspect the pain will be intolerable just the same."

I expelled an airy laugh through the unbearable quivering that had overtaken my body. "Yes, I expect so."

Loki pressed his lips to my temple for no more than a heartbeat before holding the Soul Stone against my chest. "I'm sorry."

In that moment, I no longer perceived the Aether as an ardent flame roiling within me, gracing me with its power. It was a parasite, biting, eating, eroding. Since the very second I took it into my body, it had been leeching from me, wrapped tightly around my life force, clutching and tearing, akin to fiery claws dug deep into my chest. Even so, it could not resist the pull of the Soul Stone.

My muscles seized, leaving me unable to move or cry out in agony— _a necessary agony_ , I reminded myself. But it did nothing to lessen the pain. The Aether dragged against my heart, beneath my skin, heating behind my eyes. A millions tiny needles were being drawn through my flesh, each one of them burning and seething.

Once the Infinity Stone left me in its entirety, my strength seemed to leave with it. I slipped sideways, my vision blurring, breath shallow. Loki followed, keeping me from hitting the ground with his hand clasping my elbows. As he leaned over me, the Aether slithered from me to him. It climbed along his limbs, rising and encircling him. With no further preamble, it rushed towards him, entering his eyes and seeping into his skin, absorbed by his form in an instant.

Then it stopped.

The pain. That awful churn of power in my chest. It all stopped.

My own energy made its return, surging through my every limb, released now from the cloying grasp of the Aether. I took a breath, one so deep that it might as well have been the first I'd ever taken. And when I opened my eyes, I met those of Loki. They flashed a dark bronze, glowing against his skin. As soon as he blinked, the strange colour vanished, replaced by familiar hues of blue and green.

"Well then, that was far worse than I expected." Through laboured breaths, he all but grinned. "Although there's no denying how it feels to have such power in my grasp. Imagine what one could do..."

Swallowing thickly, I touched a hand to his cheek. As expected, the Aether responded in kind, the red gleam beneath his skin rising to meet my fingertips. "It won't seem as pleasant once it begins to entwine with your life force," I told him. "It would consume you, if you let it."

He sobered at that, his hand reaching up to wrap around mine. "You would never allow such a thing to happen, even if I did."

I took the Soul Stone from him and sheathed it on my belt beside the Aether's vessel. With another trembling breath, I gave him a weary smile. "Never. I do what I can to protect you—even from yourself—but the Norns know you've been making it rather difficult for me."

When he bestowed upon me a wry smile, we both climbed to our feet—a little more unsteadily on my part, but his strength seemed to have returned in tenfold, likely due to the Aether. The roar of battle returned to me in a rush now that neither of us were in the throes of death. Amidst the conflict, Sif garnered my attention first, the _clang_ of her blades resounding loudest against a demon's claws. During our exchange of the Aether, she had taken it upon herself to protect us. I stepped forwards to assist, but Loki grabbed my upper arm, bringing me to a halt.

"Wait." He drew me close, and a sharp tingle travelled down my spine. Demons darted around us, not once glancing our way. He'd cloaked us. Not only had we vanished from sight, but we were shielded from any other sense Surtur's demons could employ. I would even wager that Surtur could not locate us if he tried. "I need you at my side. There is no knowing what will happen once I attempt to negate Odin's spell."

Despite my apprehensions, I did not argue. He was right, after all. We needed to be ready to close the breach as soon as Surtur was gone, and Loki would not be able to defend himself the moment he began to make use of the Aether.

At any rate, it soon became clear our assistance on the battlefield was not required. Sif and the Einherjar were tearing through the demons like they were insects, creating a wider berth around Odin with every felled demon. The flicker of lightning some yards away, amidst the ruins, indicated that Thor had returned to the fray.

All of this, however, meant that Surtur had also recovered from Thor's attack. One hand braced against the dilapidated tower of the palace gates, the flaming colossus rose from his knee to seek the All-Father. As before, to those who stood one-thirtieth his size, it seemed to take entire minutes for him to fully climb to his feet.

"Odin Borson." Surtur's voice boomed across the land, rattling in my chest. "Face me now. We shall end this at last."

"You will never succeed," Odin replied, his words soft and nearly inaudible by comparison. "You could not defeat me in the past, when I was but a boy. How can you expect to do so now?"

Surtur stared straight down at him, his arm moving to raise the fractured Twilight Sword above his head, a grotesque grin forming on what I perceived to be his features in the flames of his face. "And now you are an old man, older and frailer than your father ever was."

"But you are mistaken." Odin extended his left hand and held Gungnir aloft in the other. "I possess more power than my father and his father before him ever had."

In the blink of an eye, crackling energy and the terrible screech of wind tore through the atmosphere, a massive maelstrom appearing out of thin air. The intense sound of it, sharp and resonate, made my ears ring. Purple-tinged lightning shot from the point of origin, a swirl of dark energy mounting, layer upon layer.

Every demon in the surrounding area turned from their adversaries and started towards Odin in a bid to halt his casting of the spell and the expansion of the breach. While the warriors around us knocked back the demons that surged through their ranks, Loki and I sprang into action. We went unnoticed still, weaving between friend and foe alike. Of course, being unseen did not mean we were exempt from spilling demon blood.

Silvertongue remained keen as always. I drew my sword from its sheathe and felled demons with greater proficiency, knowing which part of the neck was easiest to slice through. Being undetectable by the enemy was beneficial, to be sure. Our allies closed in around Odin to ensure he was not interrupted—an endeavour that was becoming increasingly difficult as the breach continued to grow.

Even as we darted through the throng, pausing only to slay the occasional demon, I could not turn my attention away from Surtur for long. His attempts to escape the pull of the breach were laboured and, ultimately, fruitless. The sheer force of the dark energy was dragging him in, the breach burgeoning mere yards in front of him. Still, he battled against it, straining to reach Odin, who stood on its opposite side. Slow as he may have been, Surtur reared the Twilight Sword back and prepared to bring it down upon the All-Father.

This time, Odin was able to react quicker. With the breach sustaining itself, he lifted Gungnir and sent a blast straight into Surtur's eyes. The fiery demon recoiled, feet dragging along the ground, inching ever nearer to the breach.

We were so close. In seconds, the Cosmos would be rid of him forever.

He looked at the swirl of dark energy before sneering down at Odin. "Our conflict shall never be finished, All-Father."

Then Surtur swung the Twilight Sword.

But he was not aiming for Odin.

He was aiming for the breach itself.

My heart skipped a beat once I realized precisely what he meant to do. As swiftly as I had drawn the conclusion, Loki changed course before I did, turning to grab my arm, dragging me away from the mayhem that was about to be unleashed upon all of us. Everyone in our immediate vicinity did the same, hurrying to give the breach a wider berth.

Some were not quick enough.

The breach swelled. What was once a well-contained portal had become a rupture in the universe torn open by the Twilight Sword. Its pull intensified, dragging in all who stood within a dozen yards of it. The first to fall was Surtur himself. His thunderous laughter echoed across the realm, rattling my eardrums. He slipped, cackling still, and vanished into the breach. Vanished from the Nine Realms for all eternity. After so long, it almost seemed impossible. Of course, any joy I might have felt was smothered by the ever-increasing rift in the universe.

Those nearest to Surtur were the next to plummet into the breach. Demons flew, screeching, into the gaping gateway. A dozen Einherjar lost their footing and disappeared after them, followed shortly by a number of low-flying skiffs.

The All-Father was aided by a number of Einherjar reaching for him, striving to tow him away from the breach. Despite their best efforts, Odin continued to struggle against its pull. Even from so great a distance, I could see his gaze seeking out Loki. Then he looked to Thor, who remained a bright red beacon amongst the black and bronze despite being engulfed by wave after wave of demons.

Gungnir glinted in the flurry of light as Odin slid backwards along with the Einherjar who'd been attempting draw their king to safety. By then, nothing could be done to save him.

Thor's voice somehow rose above the terrible howl that permeated the air. "FATHER!"

The span of a heartbeat was all it took.

Odin All-Father disappeared into the breach, never to be seen again.

I froze, eyes wide, much like everyone else around me. But the urgency of the situation was quick to rouse me from my shock. Though we stood a safe distance from the breach, it swelled, sundering the ground and chunks of the palace aqueducts, dragging them into the Netherverse. We needed to end it now before it could grow any larger. We had to act quickly. Yet the demons were closing in around us, our cloak having worn off in the disorder. The battle was not done.

Turning, I gripped Loki's arm to capture his regard. "Loki, we must—"

"I know!" He glanced round at Thor and Sif to see them moving to engage the remaining demons, the Einherjar following their lead. "Stay behind me. I need you to act as my shield."

Without waiting for acknowledgement, he started towards the breach, hand outstretched. I trailed in his wake, keenly attuned to the battle raging around us. When a dreadclaw slipped past the Einherjar, I faced the creature and ducked its first swing. Given my far smaller stature, I hurried forth and slashed its legs, forcing it to kneel. Before it could strike again, I stabbed upwards, my sword piercing through its head.

Another pair of demons charged at us. And then another. Heart near bursting in my chest, I pushed myself to fight despite the fatigue weighing down my muscles. I tore through demon after demon, defending Loki while he struggled with the breach that continued to grow. Surtur had disrupted the controlled break in the universe, shredding the edges just enough to sever the constraints Odin had placed upon it. Perhaps Loki wouldn't have had any difficulty closing a rift of Odin's creation. But this...

"Loki, close it!" Thor could scarcely be heard above the screaming whirlwind and the crackling dark energy. "Close it now!"

Without diverting his attention from the breach, Loki shouted in return, "What is it do you think I'm doing?"

The breach pulsated, its strength increasing abruptly, drawing us in. My feet were yanked out from under me, the sudden pull knocking me to the ground. I barely had enough time to bring up Silvertongue and parry a claw that descended upon me. Jaw clenched, I stared up at the dreadclaw, its visage inverted as it stood above my head, and grasped the sharp end of my blade to keep its talons from meeting my flesh.

The demon leaned over me, teeth bared. A cry caught in my throat as I arched my back and kicked upwards, the toe of my boot colliding with its forehead. The creature recoiled, stumbling away from me. Grimacing at the pain, I gripped the hilt of my sword with both hands and ran the demon through.

The demon collapsed—either dead or weakened—and went tumbling into the breach once I kicked it from the end of my blade. As I turned, I found Loki locked in battle with another dreadclaw with no more than a dagger in hand. Breath catching, I shifted on my heel to run to him. The moment I did so, the red and black blast of the Aether struck the demon, sending it into the breach.

But not without the demon clawing Loki on its way there.

Long talons scraped down his arm, hauling him towards the breach before the demon disappeared into the nether. Balance lost, Loki was unable to withstand the pull. He went tumbling along the ground, rolling nearer to the swirling fissure.

And he showed no signs of stopping.


	18. Loki: The Nature of Daylight

**Author's Note** : Well hello everyone! I apologize for the very long wait (especially in the wake of a cliffhanger). My life has been in complete chaos for the past few weeks and I could barely find the time to breathe, let alone post this chapter. But here I am at last!

This is technically the last chapter, though there is an epilogue. It's also a Loki POV chapter! I hope you enjoy. Our time with Eirlys and Loki is starting to wind down now.

* * *

 **EIGHTEEN**

* * *

 _loki: the nature of daylight_

* * *

Loki heard nothing but the endless howl of the tempest brewing around them. The breach persisted, bulging and expanding, towing everything into its depths like a black hole on the surface of Asgard. As Loki tumbled towards it in the wake of the demon he'd slain, the only thought that endured in his mind was that of his failure. There was little more that he hated than having to admit he failed at something. But this was as glaring as any failure could ever be.

Once he fell into the breach, there was no knowing what he would face on the other side. Death likely awaited him. And with his death, no one would be able to close the breach. It would grow and grow until it consumed everything and everyone, the universe collapsing into the Netherverse. Even without the Eternal Flame, Surtur would still win.

Somehow, the notion that Eirlys would die here burned more than anything else. He could not allow it. Not after all they had suffered. Not after they had fought so tirelessly for one another. Those sentiments in particular drove him to scramble for purchase. His fingernails scratched across rock and dirt, breaking and bleeding, the pain more familiar than he would have liked. It may have slowed his descent, but his efforts to resist the breach proved futile. The rift was too loud in his ears, its dark energy swathing him in crackling shadow.

He was seconds away from the end.

Until he felt a hand clamp around his wrist.

Heart jolting, Loki curled his fingers around a wrist in return and lifted his head to see Eirlys sprawled on her front, her left hand extended to him. Her opposite hand was curled around the handgrip of her sword, the blade stabbed hilt deep into the ground for leverage. Eyes squeezed shut, she dragged him back from the breach as best she could, crushing his hand with hers. Her palm was slippery with blood—her blood. His stomach twisted at that, but he could not linger upon it, lest they all die in the coming moments.

Jaw set, he pushed himself further from the breach, struggling to find a foothold. With his hand still in hers, he hauled himself up, and together they crouched a dozen yards from the rift, just scarcely beyond the breach's influence. Her grip tightened on him, drawing him closer, as she clutched onto her sword, knuckles white from the strain. She found his gaze, hazel eyes wide, and said something—shouted, more like—but it was too damn loud for him to hear a single word.

Before he could turn back to the breach, a handful of demons came charging at them. Eirlys blanched, staring as they drew closer. Yet neither of them had to act, in the end. The demons were far more reckless, running too close to the breach and neglecting their need for solid footing. Mere feet away, the demons left the ground and tumbled through the air. Eirlys and Loki ducked beneath the howling creatures as they flew by, sinking into the swirling schism, departing from the universe entirely.

Even with the boundless roar of the breach, the thrashing of Loki's heartbeat drowned out everything else. If he did not seal the breach in the next minute, they would both fall in.

Throwing out his free hand, Loki channelled the Aether in full force. He had to remember. He had to concentrate. All those years ago, he'd helped his mother and the other sorcerers seal passageways—the very ones the Dark Elves had used to invade Asgard the first time. He never thought he would need such knowledge. He had not heeded their lessons as he should have. Sealing pathways had been the last thing he wanted when he could keep them hidden for his own advantage. But perhaps he knew enough.

The Aether heightened his magic and his ability to sense and manipulate the energy undulating before him. There... there it was, in his mind's eye, the filaments. He could perceive the loose strands of the breach. Like a tear in a sheet of fabric, he could feel the threads, draw them back together, but reconnecting them—that was the challenge. It was a hole in the universe that needed to be mended.

The Aether seared deep within as Loki called it forth, conducting energy to his fingertips. Tendrils of blood red flew towards the breach by his own will, and the Infinity Stone spiralled around the rift, twisting upwards, cinching tighter. But, for all its power, the Aether lost fragments of energy, particles of red breaking off and vanishing into the Nether. Loki grit his teeth, concentrating harder.

While he fought against the breach, dozens of things—Einherjar, demons, parts of the palace itself—flew into the breach. Despite all his efforts, the pull only seemed to grow. He felt the two of them sliding closer, his hand slipping along that of Eirlys, her sword cutting through the ground. The distance between them and the breach was becoming ever shorter.

With a shout that even he could not hear, he curled his fingers, focussing on the seams, tugging them together. The amount of power that flowed through him almost could not be contained. If he was not cautious, it could tear him apart from the inside before he could do what needed to be done. He could feel the roiling and burning, the ache building and building until it became unbearable. Nevertheless, desisting was not an option.

He poured every last bit of energy into diminishing the fracture, crying out at the indescribable pain lancing through his heart, a pain that went beyond the splitting open of his ribs. With all the Aether could provide, the edges of the breach began to shrink at last, its pull lessening. Though relief flooded his chest, he knew better than to ease up even the slightest. The swirl of the Aether became unruly, energy crackling louder than the roar of the breach itself. He was close. So close. Yet the Aether wasn't enough. Somehow, every last trace of energy could not seal the breach.

At that moment, Eirlys shifted, her grip on his hand tightening, blunt nails digging into his skin, drawing blood. Brow furrowed, he cast her a quick glance, only to find her steely gaze focussed on the swirl of dark energy before them. She leaned back a ways, feet planted as squarely on the ground as the unnatural gravitational pull would allow. Then, without hesitation, she released her hold on Silvertongue, and their feet went skidding across the snow and ice.

The sudden jolt made his heart jump, but he recovered quick enough, easily comprehending her intentions. Together, they scrambled, fighting against the breach as Eirlys raised her right hand, palm thrust towards the darkness. And he felt it. He felt her magic pour forth into the fissure, invisible, yet warm and precise. Her power twined with the Aether, augmenting his efforts and tugging at the edges of the breach.

Mere seconds. That was all they had. Eirlys closed her hand into a fist, eyes squeezed shut, expending all the energy she had left. Though there was little left of the Aether he could push forth, Loki did the same. Their combined efforts pulsed together, twisting, contracting, encircling the endless dark. One second passed. Followed by another. They slid so near to rift that they surely would have fallen into it in another heartbeat.

But her magic made that one last powerful wrench upon the hole in the universe.

Then the dark energy collapsed, the breach sealing closed.

And it all just suddenly... stopped.

When the pull of the breach died out, Loki and Eirlys fell backwards in a heap. After a fashion, the wind began to stir, rushing in the opposite direction. Before either of them could discern what was happening, a massive blast of dark energy erupted from the site of the breach, throwing them back. It became impossible to breathe, the massive current forcing all the air out of the atmosphere.

Amidst the maelstrom, Loki felt Eirlys throw herself over his chest, her head braced against his collarbone. The familiar hum of magic was the only indication that she was using a barrier to protect them both, for the wave of dark energy drowned out any other light. It was an eddy swirling around them, rising upwards and outwards, separating them from all else.

For several long moments, the darkness continued to roar, the ground shuddering beneath them. The shockwave was so powerful that Loki had to wonder if it were tearing apart Asgard itself—that perhaps they'd truly met Ragnarök after all.

Just as quickly as it began, the crash of energy ended.

All fell silent.

Laying his head on the cold, slushy ground, Loki glimpsed the sky. Clouds rolled past, the fall of snow dwindling in the sudden quietude. It looked like any other winter day, a peaceful soft grey. Peering above, one wouldn't perceive the thousands of dead that littered the field of battle.

The span of a breath later, the Aether twisted inside him, flaring and twining with his soul.

It was consuming him. Eating him alive. He bucked and writhed upon the snow, agony ripping into every fibre of his being. Until his throat began to burn from the screams, he wasn't even aware that he'd been screaming at all.

Through his anguished delirium, he perceived Eirlys leaning over him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. The evident horror in her expression betrayed his impending death. He was dying. The Aether was killing him much faster than he'd been expecting. Faster than she'd been expecting, in all likelihood. It hadn't devoured her quite like this.

Movements hasty and fumbling, Eirlys pressed the Soul Stone to his chest, and the pressure deep within began to subside. A different sort of pain penetrated his heart when the Aether was drawn from him, its reluctance to relinquish his life force like knives in his sternum. If at all possible, it was worse than having the Aether wringing his internal organs, the agony so great he nearly lost consciousness.

When it stopped, he slumped back on the ground, silent and spent, dark shadows swallowing his vision. He felt her hands on either side of his face, fingers gentle and soothing. She was calling his name, her voice strangely distant. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and it took one muddled moment too long for him to realize they were not his.

He battled the weight of his exhaustion and fought to open his eyes, straining to see Eirlys at last. She hovered over him, cheeks red and eyes watery. With a shaky hand, he reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing the trails away.

"Do not fret." His voice was barely more than a rasp, which might have detracted from his reassurances. "I am not dead yet."

Placing her hand over his, she did nothing more than sniffle and laugh.

Everything around them had grown quiet, though the sounds of war carried on in the greater distance. They were beginning to fade, bit by bit, as their enemies dwindled. With Surtur gone, the demons were left to founder on their own. The war had been won. Ragnarök was averted. Of course, that did not mean all would be as it was before.

A low groan sounded from Loki, the struggle to lift his head from the ground almost overwhelming, even with Eirlys' assistance. Once he sat upright, still clinging to Eirlys' arm for support, Loki first noticed the damage that had been done unto the palace. Large sections of the north wing were gone, splintered and fragmented by the inexorable pull of the breach. And yet no one else seemed to be paying it any heed, not when a formidable figure stood before them, precisely where the breach had been. After banishing the dark spots and blurry vision with several heavy blinks, Loki soon discerned that it was Thor.

His brother stood, staring down at the ground, where the swirl of the breach had opened and closed. _Where Odin fell into nothing_. A dozen Einherjar gathered around him, gazing upon the same spot. They'd lost fellow warriors. Friends gone. Never to be seen again. Along with their All-Father. The Nine Realms were bereft now of his watchful eye. No longer would Odin defend them.

That was the province of their new king.

Every Asgardian among them must have thought the same, for they all dropped to one knee, kneeling before Thor. Even Sif, marred by blood and cuts on her arms and armour, knelt at the feet of their monarch. Mjolnir in hand, Thor looked at everyone around him, seeming rather dazed. But there was no denying that he ruled this realm and every other realm. He was Odin's firstborn and heir. He was their rightful king.

Loki tensed, his throat constricting at the sight of everyone bestowing such honour upon Thor. As if sensing this, Eirlys peered down at him, her expression softening. She held his gaze but said nothing of it. She didn't need to. Instead, she cradled his face between her hands and pressed her brow to his. A gesture of contentment and assurance. Of love. It was a reminder that, while he would never have the throne, he had her. That knowledge chased away the unpleasant tightness in his chest.

"It's all right, Loki," she murmured. "It's over now."

Somehow, he did not think she was referring to the battle that had just taken place. "I know."

Unwilling to speak on it any further, he gripped her arm, and together they climbed to their feet. At least, that was what he intended to do. When they rose, Loki's vision tunnelled until he could no longer see, sheer nothingness overtaking his sight. Stumbling into Eirlys, he could only feel her attempting to catch him as his body seemed to fail, limbs heavy and limp.

His awareness ebbed and flowed, Eirlys sounding farther and farther afield as she spoke, calling his name. Even so, he could still perceive the waver in her voice. "We need to get him to the healing room immediately," she said to the silhouette looming over him. "He's lost too much blood, and the Aether consumed what was left of his strength. I fear his body cannot sustain itself like this for much longer."

"I've got him," came another voice—Sif, he recognized belatedly. "We need to get him into the skiff."

Blind to all that was occurring around him, he felt his arms being pulled over two sets of shoulders—Eirlys on his left, Sif on his right, their hands pressed against the scars on his back. They all but dragged him forwards, staggering bit by bit, before hefting him onto what he presumed was a skiff. When they lay him on the floor of the vessel, a disturbing chill settled deep in his flesh. And yet there was a warmth at his side, upon his brow, cupping his jaw.

 _Eirlys_.

"Stay with me." Though her words barely registered in his mind, he clung onto them. They were a lifeline, keeping him from crossing the brink of death. "I'm not going to let you die."

Despite her promise, he suspected he was growing nearer to death with every feeble heartbeat. While the blood in his body provided strength enough to return him to Asgard, the Aether had sapped what little remained. Rising to his feet must have consumed the very last of it. Consciousness slipped away, his senses abandoning him one by one. Even then, the last thing he perceived was Eirlys' fearful plea.

 _Don't leave me._

* * *

Loki drifted, darkness swallowing every sight and sound.

He felt nothing, heard nothing.

Was this what the Netherverse felt like? An endless nothing. The feeling stretched onwards. He was powerless to it. The Aether had taken the last vestiges of his energy—the very essence of his being. Perhaps he truly had given everything to shield the Cosmos from complete and utter destruction. The ultimate sacrifice. And he had done so willingly. The Nine Realms had been saved. In the depths of his heart, he knew Eirlys was safe, and that was all that mattered.

It was finally over.

He could let himself slip away. Give in to his weakness and never waken again. He was so exhausted. So tired of fighting. Was this not what he deserved? His life for the lives of those around him. For those he cared for, few as they may have been. He had taken so much. Killed so many. It was only just that the universe demand something in return.

And yet he refused. He wanted more than sacrifice and death. Always, he wanted more.

He fought against it, the cold shadows that may well have been the icy grip of death. It clung to him, like long, tapering fingers threatening to drag him down into an eternal darkness.

But it would not take him just yet.

The sharp glare of the sun was the first to greet him moments later—or hours later, as far as he knew. Long seconds passed before he realized Thor was sitting beside him, backlit by the brilliance pouring through the open balcony doors. The sound of commands being shouted across the room accompanied by the bustle of activity indicated that he had been taken to the healing room. And it could not have been much too long after the battle, given the commotion around them.

"How certain are you?" Eirlys' voice strayed into his awareness, the apparent dread underlying her every word making his heart twist. "I don't know what will happen if this doesn't work."

"Certain enough." Thor cleared his throat. "In our youth, Mother would jest how good a fortune it was that we shared blood compatibility considering the injuries we tended to suffer. She said that one day, we would need to remember that."

Eirlys loosed a breath, the side of Loki's bed sloping when she sat on the edge, her head bowed over Thor's arm. "Then I hope it wasn't a mere jest."

Squinting against the light, Loki perceived the intravenous tube conveying blood into the crook of his arm from that of Thor. He remembered the hazards of youth: tumbling down cliffs, hunting creatures twice their size, making play at war with weapons that could inflict real harm. They'd sought pastimes of an injurious nature with great frequency, worrying their mother to an unnecessary degree. Perhaps they did not share a parentage, but they always had been and always would be brothers of a sort, conflict and all.

 _Blood brothers_ , Loki thought.

"It was remarked upon often enough for me to believe it to be true," Thor replied. "Though it only occurs to me now how much of a coincidence it would be if it were."

"Coincidence?" Eirlys mused. "Or fate?"

Loki could not help but scoff at that, garnering her attention once more.

With a quavering smile, she turned to lean over him, eyes gleaming. "By the Norns," she breathed. "You really must stop scaring me like that."

He groaned and grimaced. "I do believe I've had enough of being on the brink of death for today."

Her shaky laugh betrayed her relief. "You need to rest. Though I suspect you already know that."

So right she was, he hadn't the energy to offer any sort of quip in return.

Sleep overcame him, restless and intolerable, but all too necessary. It was, however, much too brief. When he awoke next, the sun was beginning its journey towards the horizon. The day was not done, but it would be soon. Although the house of healing had grown quiet, the healers had yet to find rest. They hurried about, treating the warriors who'd suffered the worst of the burns and injuries.

A healer stood on the opposite side of the room, her auburn hair glowing in the dying light of day. She worked alongside Eirlys, tending to one of the Einherjar. For one passing moment, he thought he knew her. He thought she was the queen that held them all together for so long. The queen who raised him and cared for him even when he didn't deserve it. _Frigga_. But the events of the past week came rushing back, each and every painful detail another twist in his heart. His mother was dead, and the healer assisting Eirlys was no one of significance.

Memories of Frigga in the healing room drifted to the fore of his thoughts. He found her in this very chamber more often than not, tending those in need, Asgardians who had travelled far and wide for the best care their realm could offer. And when she was not helping others, she was teaching him countless lessons about magic. About life. Lessons that he refused to heed for far too long. They were choking, painful memories. And he could not stand it a moment longer.

With a heavy sigh, Loki eased himself upright, pushing past the dizziness that threatened to force him back down. His shoulders felt lighter than expected. It took an absurd number of seconds for him to realize that they'd removed his armour, leaving him in his trousers and dark green undershirt. Jaw clenched, he rose from the bed, his feet bare against the cold stone—not that it bothered him in the slightest.

On the other hand, his chest continued to ache; whether it was from the claws that punctured his torso or the after effects of the Aether, he had no way of knowing. After a few stumbling steps, he had no trouble making his way from the healing room, striding down the aisle of beds. He heard Eirlys call out his name, but other than that, she made no effort to stop him.

Despite the exhaustion that seeped deep into his bones, Loki felt restless. He wandered the halls of the palace, arm clutched over his chest as if he could lessen the pain wringing inside. In the entrance hall, several dozens of Einherjar lay dead, their bodies placed to the side. Loki passed them by, giving them little more than a glance. As he continued on, he found that much of the inner palace itself was untouched. The handful of demons that did enter its halls never infiltrated the vault and did little harm to everything else. Climbing the grand steps, Loki entered the north wing and made his way into the throne room without a second thought.

Absent the All-Father and his Einherjar, the massive chamber seemed so cavernous. And empty. After crossing the great expanse, he came to the foot of the dais, looking beyond the steps to stare at the vacant throne that now stood remarkably unchanged by cataclysmic events of the day. Even now, he kept expecting to see Odin there, glaring down at him with a stern, disapproving eye. But Odin would never sit upon the throne again. That right was reserved for Thor now. A right he'd dreamt of since youth. A right that they'd fought over more often than not.

A strange quietude permeated the chamber. Still, he could hear the distant cacophony of the battle's aftermath, skiffs humming in the sky, straggling demons screeching in decreasing numbers.

Loki did not move, save for the laboured rise and fall of his shoulders. Eyes focussed solely the throne, he questioned what he felt. Odin All-Father was gone from the Cosmos, never to return. He knew what he wanted to feel. He wanted to be glad. To be relieved. But, if he were to be honest with himself, he felt none of that.

It wasn't until a figure stood directly beside him that he realized there was even someone else in the throne room. Though he didn't turn to look, there was no mistaking the garish bright red and perceptible vibration of Mjolnir.

Neither of them spoke at first. Thor gazed up at the throne, motionless, his cape in tatters, blood and grime marking his face. Loki thought he must've looked much worse than Thor, his shirt practically in shreds, blood clinging to his skin. His body continued to ache despite the healing Eirlys had bestowed upon him. Yet, in spite of his new pains, his chest felt lighter somehow—a lightness he had not felt since he destroyed the Tesseract near a year past.

After a time, Loki peered over at his brother. "Long live the king."

Thor looked back at him, his posture growing tense, brow furrowing.

In response, Loki smirked. "I won't fight you for the throne, if that's what you fear."

With a frown, Thor shook his head. "Why?"

Perhaps the question was not uncalled for, given their history. Truth be told, it was something Loki had to wonder himself. Why didn't he want the throne more than he did? For one, his every attempt to take the throne—any throne, really—resulted in more pain and less power. Moreover, it did not seem likely Loki could best Thor in combat, especially considering the state he was in.

But of all the answers he could give, one stood out amongst the rest, and that was what he told Thor, "Because fighting you for the throne would gain me nothing of value regardless of the outcome."

Lowering his eyes, Thor smiled softly. He seemed to understand what Loki meant, for he did not pose any further queries on the subject. "Good. Because I came here to ask that you help rule the Nine Realms."

Loki blinked and turned to face him. "Is this a jest? You would never give up the throne."

"I am not giving up the throne. That would not be possible now, even if I wanted to." Thor gave him a pointed look, and Loki actually chuckled in response. No explanation was needed. The Asgardians' opinion of Loki was less than stellar. Abdicating the throne to leave Loki to rule the Nine Realms would not have been readily tolerated by anyone.

"Father is gone." Head bowed, Thor paused for several long seconds, steeping in the loss. "I had not thought I would be deprived of his guidance so soon. That is why I must seek it from you." Loki raised a brow at that, but Thor pressed on before he could interject, "If I am to be king, I cannot do it alone."

This newfound self-awareness that Thor seemed to have acquired was unfamiliar. To have him seek help—to have him even realize that he needed it—was extraordinary. With all that had happened in the past few years, Loki supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Thor might have been a fool, but he was less a fool now than he once was.

"You always understood the truth of ruling better than I ever have," Thor said, his regard settling upon the throne once more. "The brutality, the sacrifice... it changes you."

Loki's smirk took on a sardonic air. "It would change _you_ , not me."

The truth spoken so plainly garnered a smile from Thor. "I had no intention of saying it such certain terms, but I must admit it did cross my mind."

"You would use such a truth to your advantage," Loki remarked. "That is, at the least, a wise choice."

Thor lifted a brow. "Of course you would say that. I am offering you a position of power. To you, nothing could be wiser."

Together, they shared a laugh. It felt odd despite how regular an occurrence it had been when they were younger, when they were just brothers. _Friends_. Once, long ago, they did not have such conflict between them. Now, that conflict marred their every interaction. Would there ever come a time when those wounds no longer burned?

As their mirth faded, Loki shook his head. "Odin would have abhorred such a choice. Asking _me_ to provide counsel?"

 _In the past, he might not have_ , Loki thought. _Perhaps he might even have encouraged it._

"Father isn't here any longer," Thor said, canting his head to one side. "If he were to survive the Netherverse, would there be even a possibility that he could return?"

"I hope not," Loki replied. The swift response earned him a dark look before he opted to clarify. "Do remember, if Odin were able to return, then Surtur would surely follow."

Face falling, Thor made no attempt to question or argue the obviously sound logic. Instead, he glanced from the throne to the foot of the dais, where Frigga often stood on almost every occasion. "Then Mother and Father are both gone forever."

A stab of pain struck Loki's chest, the image of a fallen Frigga flickering through his mind, her body crumpled on the floor, accompanied by little more than a smear of blood. The ache seemed to grow at the thought of Odin falling into the breach, vanishing from this plane of existence forevermore. A part of him wanted to rejoice in Odin's demise. He wanted to be able to resent him. But the truth was—

Stamping out the burgeoning feeling of grief, Loki turned his head away from the throne. "And now all of their burdens have fallen to us." He could not help but give a mirthless chuckle. "Is that why you've asked for my help? You want me to make all the difficult decisions."

"Among other reasons," Thor said. "I know I could not have made many of the decisions Father has, especially those of late. But I know you can. And, despite the number of enemies you've made over the years, you have always had a talent with words."

"Do you truly think you can trust me?" Loki narrowed his eyes. "Many would consider you a fool to let me roam free, let alone operate in a position of power."

Loki had—for the most part—asked the question in jest. But Thor hesitated and pondered over his answer quite seriously for longer than expected. Loki wondered if he should've felt insulted, with all that he'd suffered for the sake of the Nine Realms. How often had he faced death to save so many lives? The lives of people who seemed to give him so little consideration.

"As king, it would be my responsibility to preside over all the Nine Realms," Thor said, his expression souring. As if being the ruler of the known Cosmos was little more than a nuisance now, his prior years of fighting for the throne all but forgotten. "In my absence, someone else must lead Asgard. That is a task I would entrust to you. Fool I may be, but I do trust you, Loki."

At that, Loki wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh until he could not longer breathe. The universe certainly had a sense of humour, to bestow these roles upon them when they expected it least—desired it least, even. But he could not refuse such an offer under the circumstances they found themselves in. For all Thor had learned these past years, he was ill-prepared to rule the Nine Realms. There was no knowing what sort of disorder he could usher unto them. As a resident of the Nine Realms, Loki knew he had to ensure that the worst did not come to pass.

"I can scarcely believe I'm saying this," he said, "but I accept."

Thor beamed at last, that familiar gleam in his eye making its return after what felt like an eternity. "Perhaps we should call you the Lord High Steward of Asgard."

Loki loosed a breath of laughter. "Oh, I'm certain Eirlys would just love that."

"Your Majesty!"

They both turned to see an Einherjar at the crest of the steps behind them, bowing to Thor. _Your Majesty_. It was the first time Loki had ever heard anyone refer to Thor as such. He might have it heard it sooner if he hadn't unleashed the Frost Giants on the palace to keep Thor from the throne. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Heimdall would speak with you," the Einherjar told his king. "We have received word that Fandral and Hogun have secured Midgard with the assistance of the humans known as the Avengers."

A single nod was all that was needed to dismiss the Einherjar. Thor moved to follow behind him, but hesitated after taking a mere step. "Before I go, allow me to say one thing with regards to Eirlys..." Brow quirked, he looked back at his brother. "Take her to wife, Loki. Is it not past time you wed her?"

Loki had to suppress a smile. "You and I have rarely agreed on much. This may be one of the few instances in which we are of like mind."

With a smile of his own, Thor began his walk from the throne, leaving his brother behind. In the silence, Loki cast one final look at the throne. He was not likely to ever sit upon it again. And, somehow, that did not bother him as much as he thought it would. Turning his back on the dais, Loki departed from the throne room in Thor's wake.

By the time he reached the entrance hall, it was teeming with warriors just returned from the battlefield, the rising clamour deafening. At the far end of the long chamber, Eirlys appeared from the corridor that led to the house of healing, pausing to exchange a brief word with Thor. When a pair of Einherjar approached, bowing to Thor, she offered him a weary smile before continuing her way down the long chamber.

Eirlys sighed at the sight of Loki, her entire form sagging under the weight of unseen burdens. Blood and dirt dotted every inch of her skin, and what little remained uncovered showed a wan complexion. She came to a stop a yard from him, her soft smile turning sad. "Did I not tell you to find rest earlier?" After a moment, the remnants of her smile faded. "You said nothing when you left the healing room."

Averting his gaze, Loki hesitated. Perhaps it was the look in her glistening eyes that spurred him on. "I could not withstand being there a moment longer."

Her shoulders slackened a little, and she nodded in understanding. Drawing closer, she reached up to lay her hand upon his cheek. "I'm merely worried that you still have a chance of dying from exhaustion."

"And what of you?" he asked with the lift of his brow. "Have you finally given yourself leave to stop worrying over everyone else?"

She gave him a sardonic look, pressing her hands flat against his chest. "The healers that took shelter on Nidavellir have returned, allowing me my first moment's rest in what feels like days." A breath of laughter escaped her lips, though it contained very little humour. "It seems strange to be able to rest when, mere hours ago, I feared we would die. Strange, but welcome."

From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed a dozen Einherjar gathering around Thor now, seeking direction and guidance—both things Thor would struggle to provide. Before long, the Asgardians would bow and scrape before him, currying his favour, bestowing upon him every honour befitting a king regardless of whether or not he deserved it.

Eirlys canted her head and looked him carefully in the eye. "Do you envy him?"

The question made him scoff, a response that she clearly did not appreciate, for she crossed her arms and raised a brow. "I do not envy him this." He gestured around them, to the damage done unto the Asgardians. In their state, they would have to rely on their king to rebuild. To heal and grow. That was a pressure Loki could do without. "There is nothing of his that I would take for my own, and I have been bestowed with something far more valuable that even he cannot claim to have." Gazing down at Eirlys, he lifted his hand and trailed his fingers through her hair, along her cheek.

After a moment, her expression softened as she seemed to glean his meaning. "Loki..."

His breath caught in his throat when she leaned up on her toes to capture his lips with her own. Hands at her waist, he dipped down to deepen the kiss. There were warriors crowding them, intruding on whatever semblance of privacy they might've had, and she tasted like copper and grime, but he had no care. He did not think anything could make him forfeit the opportunity to kiss her right then and there.

Fingers curled around his, Eirlys stepped back as soon as the need to breathe forced them apart. "Perhaps we should find some place not swarming with Einherjar."

His hand tucked in hers, they walked through the entrance hall together. For once, she took the lead, guiding him through the throng of Asgardians. Every Einherjar that crossed their path stepped aside, pressing their fists over their hearts and bowing their heads. It was something they'd never done before, not even when Loki was king for a day.

Eirlys steered them through the immense chamber, keeping close to the walls that still bore the sigil of Asgard on banners of red. Once they reached the corridor that led to the royal apartments, Loki did not have to ask where she was taking them.

Upon climbing the curved steps to the apartments, Eirlys pushed past the door to her chambers—their chambers—and entered without a moment's pause. Much like the rest of the palace, their quarters remained untouched. It gave way to the most peculiar sensation that nothing had happened. That nothing outside these walls had changed because the inside hadn't. But that couldn't have been any further from the truth.

Hand slipping from his, Eirlys headed for the bedchamber, casting him an inviting backwards glance as she went. He trailed in her wake as fast as his tired, aching body would allow, the thought of resting together in their bed beyond alluring.

By the time he crossed the bedchamber, she was leaning over the basin on her vanity, washing the dirt and blood and soot from her face. As she patted her skin dry, she sidled over to the balcony doors and swung them wide. They were greeted by the smell of smoke mingling with the sea breeze, a fresh chill permeating the bedchamber.

Eirlys shivered and stepped outside to gaze below, folding her towel over the balustrade. Loki followed suit, wiping the grime from his face using a damp cloth, albeit with less care. On the balcony, he peered down at the willow tree just as she was. The lengthy branches had seen some damage, several leaves blackened and charred from errant flames. But the tree was otherwise alive and well.

He moved to stand at her side, his arm brushing against hers. "I often wondered how you always knew to find me beneath the willow tree."

She lowered her eyes, attention drifting to the base of the tree. "That is where I saw you for the first time." His brow dipped, but she forestalled any contradictions he intended to voice. "By that, I mean I first saw you here—the real you—without all your hostility and disfavour. You were simply reading a book, basking in the moonlight under the branches of the willow tree. It was quite some time before I ever saw such ease again."

Smirk in place, he remembered that night with such clarity. Unimpressed by his mother's new apprentice, he'd sought solitude in the shadow of the tree, completely ignoring the fact that her balcony overlooked the garden. He'd heard her squeak of surprise descending from on high before he caught of glimpse of her scrambling back into her bedchamber. Such a meek girl she had seemed. He looked at her now, beside him, covered in dirt and blood and armour.

The wistfulness was quick to fade from her expression. "So much has happened since then."

Though she seemed poised to speak further, a sudden grating squawk made her jump. They both looked upwards to see a pair of ravens circling above before diving down to land upon the balustrade. His chest tightened the moment he recognized the dark-feathered birds: Huginn and Muninn. For as long as Loki could remember, the pair had served as Odin's eyes and ears throughout the Nine Realms. Now, they were merely lost creatures. Without direction. Without purpose.

Eirlys blinked at the sight of them, a shadow passing over her features. "They can no longer find their master, it seems."

Loki hummed. "Even they cannot follow Odin into the Netherverse."

Movements hesitant, she reached out to stroke the nearest of the two, running the back of her fingers along the raven's neck. Whichever raven it was—Huginn or Muninn—the bird did not seem to mind her touch. "Is it not strange that we are unable to give the All-Father a proper funeral?" she said. "The great All-Father, lost to the void between universes. We have no way of knowing if he's truly dead."

"Does it matter?" Loki remarked. "They will honour him either way."

She gave him a curious look. "You sound disappointed."

"Disappointed? No," he replied, rather hastily. "I have no care for how they eulogize him."

Brow furrowed, Eirlys held his gaze. Her query made him question once more what it meant to him, that Odin was gone. He thought it would be easy to dismiss, to deride the man he once believed to be his father. To loathe the king that threw him in the dungeons with every intention of leaving him there for all eternity. But it wasn't.

"It does not change the fact that we are the ones left behind to piece the Nine Realms back together." With a heavy breath, Loki stepped closer to balustrade, resting his hands upon the snow that gathered there. He toyed with the fresh powder that never melted under his touch. "I spoke to Thor in the throne room shortly after I left the healing room." When he paused, she dipped her head, prompting him to continue. "Thor— _our new king_ —has asked that I rule the Nine Realms in his absence, as a steward of sorts for when his duties take him elsewhere."

He thought she would laugh at these new tidings. After all, he himself found it rather comical, bearing in mind everything they'd endured—much of which he'd instigated. Instead, she lifted her brow, wrapping her arms around her midsection. "He asked you that?" It sounded more of a surprised statement than an actual question. "And what did you tell him?"

Loki canted his head and turned to face her. "Did you expect me to do anything other than agree?"

"Well, I..." She trailed off and shivered—whether it was from the snow drifting around them or her own thoughts, he could not say. It was no challenge to surmise her train of thought when it came to the throne and the conflict it gave rise to. In the throne room, Thor had the nerve to ask him outright. But, to her, it was no longer a question that needed asking. "In the wake of averting Ragnarök, especially now that the All-Father is gone, the Nine Realms stand on the brink of being plunged into turmoil. You would do all in your power to prevent that from happening."

A laugh welled in his throat, but he did not let it spill over. Her faith in him was heartening. Sidling to stand with her back to his chest, he circled his arms around her, hand stroking the curve of her waist. "You think so highly of me."

"How could I not?" Turning in place, she gazed upon him with a look of such utter adoration that his heart clenched. When she reached up to caress his cheek, her smile chased away the shadows that had lingered beneath her eyes for too long. "We have both nearly died this day, and yet you still found the strength to close the breach, saving us all. Do not think I would ever fail to appreciate that. I sincerely doubt anyone could fail to appreciate that."

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds then. In the light of day, he relished in the shine of her eyes, the glow of her skin that was no longer deathly pale.

"I am thankful for a great many things, but I most thankful for the simple fact that we're alive." She gave him a searching look, like she was mapping every line and every curvature of his face. "Of all the things I feared this day, being parted from you was... unthinkable. No matter what the future may bring, I will be by your side, one way or another."

Leaning down, he pressed his brow to hers. "Is that a promise?"

"One I intend to keep." She laid her hand on his chest, right over his heart. "For now, I would have us find some rest. I could spend the remainder of my life finding rest after all that we have been through."

Loki chuckled. "Wishful thinking."

"Verily, it is a dream," she said. "But a good dream."

With a kiss to her brow, he held her close and tucked her head beneath his chin, fastening his gaze on the horizon. He felt her smile and nuzzle his neck before resting her temple against his collarbone, shifting to peer across the Asgardian sea. They watched the realm change, clouds dispersing overhead, the roiling waters growing calm. The ceaseless pall gave way to the sun, the last light of day basking all it could in a spectrum of reds and oranges. Asgard glowed in its lustre, the darkness vanishing under its touch.

Under the setting sun, there was no knowing what the morrow would bring.

No matter what, they would face it together.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of this chapter is a reference to a track by Max Richter called _On the Nature of Daylight_ (quite recently popularized by Arrival, I believe). My favourite rendition of the song is the mash up with Dinah Washington's _This Bitter Earth_ (which was on the Shutter Island soundtrack, if I remember correctly).

Hang tight, my dear readers. All that remains is the epilogue.


	19. Epilogue: To Build a Home

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait folks!

Here we are now, at journey's end. The title of this chapter is named for the song _To Build a Home_ by the Cinematic Orchestra.

* * *

 **EPILOGUE**

* * *

 _to build a home_

* * *

My eyes fluttered open, fighting against the pull of blissful and far too scarce sleep. The temptation to slumber for days on end was great, a battle I nearly could not overcome. But, as much as I never wanted to rise again, there was work that needed to be done. There was always work that needed to be done. Not for the first time, the burden of responsibility struck me as undesirable.

With a groan, I shifted my head, cheek pressed against my soft and luxurious pillow. The heavy red-orange curtains were drawn over the balcony doors, allowing the barest sliver of sun to peek between the panels. I blinked in the light, curious to know the time of day.

Brow furrowed, I rolled over—an endeavour unto itself—the mountain of pillows surrounding me flying about. Through the gloom, I managed to perceive that Loki's side of the bed was absent his presence. Frowning, I sighed and trailed my hand over where he'd lain. It was not unusual to wake without him, so often was he stolen from our bed by his duties. Or his nightmares.

I laid on my side for a short while before the slow movement of the sun prompted me to prepare for the day. Of late, sitting upright proved a struggle. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed demonstrated itself even more so. I was ungainly as ever, climbing to my feet with my hands braced around my pregnant belly.

 _Any day now_ , I thought. Until then, my already rotund stomach only seemed to grow greater with every passing night.

The very act of walking itself was becoming increasingly difficult. My whole body ached, and my back and feet were beyond sore at all times. Slow and steady, I paced the steps and padded over to the balcony doors to pull open the curtains. I squinted against the harshness of the sun and discerned that it was already well past daybreak. Which meant that I was late to the assembly. My neck flushed at the thought. _Punctuality is a sign of respect._ I could still hear my father saying those words.

Loosing the deepest huff I'd ever conjured, I all but waddled across the bedchamber and called for Arlessa. It was curious that she hadn't woken me earlier; she usually anticipated the start of my mornings, seeing as she began her day before even I did. And that was especially evident now that I slept at odd times.

The bedchamber door swung wide swiftly but not violently. Arlessa came bustling in, her gaze immediately seeking my protruding belly. "Is it time?" she asked—a question she bestowed upon me often of late. Perhaps my tone had been a touch more urgent than the situation warranted.

"Not yet," I replied.

Her whole form seemed to sag, but she said nothing more of the subject, instead hurrying about to prepare my garb for the day. "It is a fine morning, is it not, my lady?"

"Yes, lovely indeed." I had to suppress a smile upon seeing her pursed lips and obvious disappointment. "It is also rather late in the morning. I was hoping to have risen earlier."

My handmaiden scurried over to the wardrobe and rifled through the few court dresses that still managed to fit me. "Do not fret, my lady. I am certain the visiting dignitaries shall forgive you this one transgression."

I quirked a brow. Her words sounded too much like that of Loki, which led me to believe that she was repeating the reply he would've given had she raised the same concerns to him. And knowing Arlessa, she definitely did. "Where is my husband now?" I asked. "Or perhaps I should enquire as to _when_ he left."

"Near an hour ago," she told me. "He said not to wake you."

I tried not to sigh at that.

She returned to the wardrobe and withdrew the elegant pale green dress I'd worn the last time the same dignitaries visited. It was the only one whose skirt began above my abdomen, allowing maximum comfort in such an uncomfortable time. Though dismayed by the lack of variation, I approved her choice and dressed with her assistance.

Impatience mounting, I forewent having my hair braided, instead letting it flow in loose curls. Arlessa sat me at the vanity and insisted on brushing it out, noting the tangles born of all the tossing and turning I did in the night. As she set out undoing one particularly nasty knot, I reached out to my golden hair comb, still sitting on my vanity, and ran my fingertips along the emeralds embedded in the surface. It amazed me, how such a small trinket had survived so much.

While Arlessa took hold of the comb to pin my hair back, a pang churned through my lower abdomen. I grimaced, hand clutching my belly, but thought little else of it as soon as it passed; it was nothing I hadn't felt in prior months.

Once I was deemed fit for the day, I rose to my feet, and we exited my chambers to meet my personal guard, Orvar, in the corridor. He bowed low to me and offered Arlesaa a wide smile that she was more than happy to return. Wordless, I headed down the shall, Arlessa and Orvar never far behind.

In the distant wake of Ragnarök, Asgard brimmed with life once more. People filled the great halls of Asgard, nobles and common folk alike, their words and laughter resounding throughout. I smiled and nodded to all I passed, and they bowed in return. In the beginning, I had found it disconcerting, that they would endow me with such respect. Had they shown the same deference to Queen Frigga when she walked these halls? Did I deserve that which they had afforded her?

Upon reaching the grand steps, Orvar hurried forth to take my hand and help me to the top—a feat that was becoming more gruelling than I would've liked to admit. A contingent of Einherjar guarded the north wing in full this day, each inclining their heads as I meandered by. They opened the doors to the throne room, granting me passage to the immense chamber. With softly spoken words of gratitude, I entered as quickly as my encumbered body would allow. Pacing the length of the chamber demonstrated itself to be a daunting task, but I did not let it deter me.

In due time, I climbed the last of the steps and caught sight of the assembly. King Faradei hovered on the left side of the throne room, accompanied by a half-dozen Light Elves and Lord Meyrick, who continued to serve as his most trusted advisor. Directly at the foot of the dais, Prince Brokk and his party of Dwarves had taken up their customary positions. Halfway up the stairs, Fandral and Hogun kept vigil, notably bereft of Volstagg whose recent difficulties with his prosthetic leg kept him from attending the past several assemblies.

When my gaze found that of Loki, a pleasant warmth spread through my chest. Since his appointment, never did he sit upon the throne of Asgard. He always stood on the dais, just at the base of the throne. He might not have been king, but he certainly dressed as one would. His black leather overcoat was chased with strips of gold, complementing the green cape he remained ever fond of.

As I ambled nearer to the throne, the envoys gave their greetings, bowing their heads at my approach. It was a reverence I did not think I could ever become accustomed to. Loki, on the other hand, seemed to take it in stride—in fact, he might have even enjoyed being held in such high esteem. _The Lord and Lady of Asgard_ , they called us.

I graced all in our company with a soft smile. "You have my sincerest apologies for my belated arrival."

Instead of awaiting me at the top of the dais, Loki descended the steps to meet me, sweeping forth to bestow upon me a fleeting kiss. "Ah, dear wife, good of you to join us."

Hands braced on his shoulders, I lifted a brow. "Why did you not wake me? I would have rather been here with you."

Loki cast a glimpse towards our audience, each group murmuring amongst themselves, pretending not to heed our exchange. "I thought it best not to wake you," he said, eyes glinting. "The last time I attempted as such, I was nearly rewarded with a blast to the face. Forgive me for not feeling so inclined to take such a risk again."

I cleared my throat and smiled, my cheeks growing a touch warm. "That is... fair enough."

Turning, I glanced round at the guests of our assembly. "Again, I apologize for the interruption," I said, clasping my hands to my chest in a show of humility. Not that it was necessary; most of them seemed amused. Even Faradei smiled in a surprising show of good humour, considering that his dealings with Loki were often met with discord—one among several reasons why I made certain to attend every meeting.

With no further comment on my tardiness, I nodded to Faradei and the holographic map of Alfheim beside him. "In your last missive, I believe you expressed some fear with regards to a band of Kree lingering on your borders quite uninvited."

"We were in the midst of speaking on that very subject." Loki circled around me to stand across from Faradei. "There remains some uncertainty as to whether or not these Kree are mere mercenaries or actual representatives of their empire."

Faradei lifted his chin. "Yes, they make no attempt to approach, and they are oft stealthy. Even Lord Meyrick has difficulty monitoring them at a distance."

I made to speak, but a mild twinge rising in my lower abdomen forced me to pause. Folding my hands over my stomach, I grimaced and took one deep, steadying breath. The instant it passed, I paid it no further mind, so intent I was on keeping to the topic at hand. "Regardless of their affiliation, I think they should be given a wide berth for the time being," I suggested. "Watch as closely as possible while exercising caution. We do not want to alert them to your presence, yet we do not want them to catch you unawares as the Chitauri once did."

A shadow passed over the faces of all those in the Light Elf party. Even after so long, the anguish of that day lingered close to the surface. Never before had they lost a king and a prince all at once. And never again.

After a moment's pause, Loki gave a small nod. "A preferable approach, given the circumstances. Not once has any association with the Kree ever proven to be pleasant." A sardonic smirk tugged at his lips. "Aside from that, I am willing to wager they are simply passing through your realm. Alfheim has nothing of value."

While I cast Loki a sharp look, Faradei merely pursed his lips, his irritation simmering behind his eyes. "That is not a wager in which I would partake, for these are my lands they trod upon," he said. "At the least, we are in agreement about one thing: there is nothing we have that the Kree would want, and we have had no contact with them in the past."

"Perhaps this has more to do with their increased interest in Midgard. There is a certain subset of humans with which they have been curiously fascinated—the Inhumans, I believe Lady Sif calls them," Loki remarked. "Alfheim happens to lie in that trajectory. I would send Sif to Alfheim in the instance the Kree do pay you a visit; she has had dealings with them in the past."

"Don't you think that perhaps Hogun and I should see to the Kree?" Fandral suggested.

Loki lifted a brow. "What? So you might exercise your _wonderful_ skills of diplomacy should the need arise?"

Chuckling, Fandral shared a glance with Hogun. "You say that as though Sif is any better skilled at diplomacy. Her last encounter with a Kree did not end on the best of terms."

"I think Fandral might be right—about going to Alfheim in her stead, not about her lack of diplomatic expertise." I chewed on the inside of my cheek to withhold a smile. "In any event, King Faradei will most likely serve as speaker should the need for diplomacy arise. Fandral and Hogun will simply be representatives of Asgard in a bid for peace—or as our finest warriors, if anything goes awry. Even so, I do not recommend engaging the Kree in violence."

Fandral and Hogun bowed their heads. "You may rely on us, my lady," Fandral said.

"I will be glad for the assistance. But, before we depart, I would like a moment longer to consult with the Lady Eirlys." Faradei looked towards me, smiling now. "You know your warriors and you know the lands of Alfheim. Your perspective on our approach would be much appreciated. That is assuming there is nothing else Lord Loki wishes to discuss."

 _Lord Loki_. I did not think the title would ever stop sounding strange to my ears.

Although Loki lifted a brow, he did not hesitate to nod in agreement. "We shall see what becomes of the Kree before we intervene any further." With his back to the holographic map, he turned to address me. "In the meantime, Thor has left me with the scintillating task of assessing the Dwarves' dragonling problem." A few of the Dwarves grumbled, irked by his impertinent tone. Prince Brokk, on the other hand, gave a soft chortle. "I fear the matter requires my immediate attention."

The 'dragonling problem' was, in some ways, our responsibility. Hakurei had nested in the tunnels beneath Bàhn Modan not just to hide, but to lay her eggs. Left unchecked, those eggs hatched into dragonlings that were now compromising the integrity of the tunnels with their wild scampering and unruly dragon fire.

"Thor left the task to you?" I said, quirking a brow. "And why can he not attend to Nidavellir himself?"

Loki scoffed at the very notion. "I would not trust Thor to handle such creatures with due care. He would, in all likelihood, cause greater damage before actually solving the problem."

"Aside from that, he's already promised to help his fine mortal friends with some new quandary of their own making," Fandral chimed in.

Gracing Loki with a wry look, I shook my head. "Still, I worry. Slaying dragons was never your forte, even if they are not fully grown."

"If it will assuage your fears, I will send for Sif the Dragonslayer to lend aid once she completes the day's training," Loki replied.

I chuckled at that. "Very well then. I would accompany you to the Bifrost, but I suspect that it would not be a particularly expedient departure."

Ever astute, Hogun descended the dais steps and gestured for those in our company to allow us a moment to say our farewells. As the Light Elves moved to stand some ways to the left and the Dwarves began muttering to one another, I stepped close to Loki and cupped his jaw. "It will be a lengthy journey to the tunnels deep beneath Bàhn Modan. Who knows how long it shall be until your return."

His expression grew pinched. "I know. Now it's no challenge to see why Thor was so willing to entrust me with this vocation. Such menial tasks are below him."

"Menial tasks? This is what a king does. Someone must look after the Nine Realms—all nine of them," I told him, and the tension in his frame dissolved. "Let us simply hope you are not kept past sundown this time."

Smirk in place, Loki leaned down and captured my lips with his. While I was eager to return the kiss, we had to end it too soon for my liking, for we were still in the presence of friends and envoys. "I will not be gone long," he murmured, his fingers brushing my stomach. "My patience runs dreadfully thin. I may resort to razing the tunnels after all and be done with it."

"And resort to what you'd surely claim to be a Thor-like tactic?" With a small smile, I took a step back. "Rest assured, there are only so many of them to be found. There is always an end."

Even as Loki gave me a long, searching look, gaze flitting over my features, I sensed his thoughts to be elsewhere. "Yes, I suppose there is." He pressed one final kiss to my temple. "We best go. I believe we have kept our guests waiting long enough."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing full well there were a dozen people waiting on us, and he turned from me to usher the Dwarves from the throne room. Glancing at those who remained, I inclined my head and returned to the holographic map of Alfheim where the Elves prepared to hold further discourse. Lord Meyrick led the conversation, as he'd often done during my time in Alfheim. I had not been privy to Alfheim's assemblies when King Tylock was present, but Castien often sought my opinion on matters in his absence. This was no different.

Using the holographic display and a perfectly thorough description, Lord Meyrick shared all that they knew. The Kree had taken to hiding in the mountains, the rocky and uneven terrain too difficult for the Light Elves to ascend and monitor with any semblance of stealth. "And what of the surrounding hillsides?" I asked. "Too steep to climb still?"

"Indeed," Faradei replied. "Though the forests do provide excellent cover."

I shared a glance with Fandral before nodding towards those forests. "Could a skiff hide in those trees?"

Meyrick raised a brow. "I do believe so."

"Then you are fortunate you've already enlisted the help of an exceptional pilot," Fandral said.

Hogun loosed a breath of laughter. "That is what he believes."

With a bemused smile, Faradei canted his head. "You would spare a skiff for us?"

"It's not as though we are in grave need of it," I told him. "Loki might have even suggested it if he thought the presence of the Kree were any real concern." I upturned one hand, resting the other on my stomach. "Truth be told, I do not see these Kree as a threat, but I would rather you be certain than be forced to speculate from afar."

In response, Meyrick beamed. "It is a greatly appreciated boon, Lady Eirlys."

The remainder of our meeting was spent strategizing, a discussion I left to Fandral and Hogun, for they would ultimately be the ones to accompany the Elves on their surveillance. When all was said and settled, we did not linger much longer in the throne room, concluding our conference with no more words than necessary. Left with the task of escorting our guests from the realm, I led them down the length of the chamber, basking in the beam of sun that shone from directly above.

Once we entered the north wing, Fandral moved through the others to match my pace. "Should you be walking as much as you are? I do recall you remarking upon the endless ache in your back just yesterday."

His concern somehow put me at ease and made me flush all at once; perhaps it was the knowledge that I was always surrounded by those who cared for me. "It is a short walk to the grand entrance. I am quite certain I shall find a nice place to rest afterwards."

"Would this 'nice place' be the sparring grounds?" Hogun asked from Fandral's other side.

I had to smile at that. They knew me well. "Possibly." With the assumption that Sif had not yet left for Nidavellir to accompany Loki, she would be found on the sparring grounds, training the newest Einherjar recruits. Had it not been for my condition, I would have joined her—I certainly wanted to. But, alas, being extremely pregnant was not conducive to swordplay. "It may require an inordinate amount of time to reach my destination, but I will not be dissuaded."

Fandral chuckled as we arrived at the entrance hall. "Then we shall leave you to your leisurely amble and see you on the other side of this hall." Together with Hogun, he led most of the Elves to the fore of our group, conducting amiable conversation. They did not seem to heed the baleful look I cast their way.

Slowing to stride at my side, Faradei bestowed upon me a faint smile. "I am glad to see that Asgard has found some form of stability." He nodded and glanced round the entrance hall, in the direction of my good-humoured friends and the presently carefree Asgardians milling about. "It is quite the wonder."

"You sound surprised." I canted my head. "Did you think we were not capable?"

He looked to his left, exchanging a look with Meyrick before shaking his head. "I did not mean it like that."

"You did, but you're much too polite to admit it," I said, pressing my lips together to smother a laugh. "And you're not wrong to think it. I find myself amazed that everything remains so intact after... after the All-Father passed from this universe."

Meyrick peered over at me, his kindly gaze calming. "Did you doubt Loki's abilities?"

"No, it wasn't that." Heaving a sigh, I let my regard drift over the grand chamber laid out before us. To say that Loki had an appalling history with Asgard was an understatement. A great number of denizens protested Loki's designation as the 'Lord High Steward of Asgard'—a chorus of voices silenced by the fact that Loki had been among those who stopped the breach into the Netherverse from swallowing the entirety of the Nine Realms. That did not, of course, erase _every_ speck of doubt. "It has not been easy. A great number of Asgardians questioned Thor's decision to bestow such power upon Loki. And I cannot blame them, even as I cannot agree with them."

Faradei bowed his head. "For whatever it may be worth, I might not appreciate Lord Loki's attitude, nor do I always agree with his methods, but I do think he has proven himself."

"He is not so unlike Odin." Lord Meyrick levelled his gaze with mine. "I think you realize that. As does Thor."

The thought brought the smallest of wry smiles to my lips. "Do not let him hear you say that."

Well ahead of us, the waiting Einherjar opened the grand entrance for Fandral, Hogun, and the Light Elf warriors. The sun streamed through, widening from a mere sliver to a seemingly endless glow. As we approached, Fandral and Hogun were prepared to take their leave, waiting only to bow their heads to me. "We will return before long," Fandral said. "We shall report our findings when we next speak. Assuming that we have anything of interest to report."

The Asgardian warriors were the first to march through, requesting an Einherjar to bring forth a skiff while the Light Elves sent for grooms to fetch their steeds. As the rest of their company made ready for their departure, Faradei and Meyrick came to a standstill beside me.

"I do believe we have been away from Alfheim long enough," Faradei remarked.

"Of course." Grimacing, I placed my hands on my stomach at the feeling of another cramp. _Nothing more than_ _early contractions_ , I thought. _The same as I felt several days ago_. I brushed the thought aside once the grooms brought forth Faradei's horse. "Do not let me keep you."

Faradei tilted his head, glancing down at my pregnant belly. "Will the baby be born soon?"

"We expect so. I very much hope so."

"Then I expect we shall not be parted for long." Steps slow and doddering, Meyrick crossed in front of Faradei to take my hands in his weathered ones. "I am proud of you, of all that you have accomplished and overcome. Of the life you have found here."

With a shaky smile, I curled my fingers over his.

In return, he bore a far more mournful smile. "And I know she would be too."

Heart aching, I lowered my eyes. I did not have to ask who he meant. "I miss her."

"As do we all. But she is not gone." He released my hands and tucked a knuckle beneath my chin to meet my gaze. "Not entirely."

Nothing else passed between us before he turned to hobble down the cobblestone, accepting aid from the nearest Einherjar with as much grace as he could muster. As Meyrick endeavoured to mount his horse, Faradei lingered beside me, quietly watching his kin manoeuvre into formation.

"Never did I think our lives would turn out this way. The circumstances in which we have found ourselves... Castien would have thought it humorous." He gave a wry breath of laughter and shook his head. "I am glad, though, to see you happy and among those you love most."

Although I thought to speak, the lump in my throat kept me from doing so. _He's right_ , I mused. _I am home at last_.

"Farewell, Lady Eirlys," he said with his fist over his heart and the bow of his head. "I am certain we shall see one another in the near future."

When he made to leave, I reached out to grasp his arm, drawing him to a stop. "You serve your people well, Faradei," I said. "Your brother would have thought the same."

At that, he smiled. "And this is what Castien wished you could have. You are yourself here, surrounded by all these people. You thrive in the disorder."

I blinked, a little taken aback by the observation, but I did not seek to refute him.

Again, Faradei bowed his head. "I should also remind you that Driana and her ladies-in-waiting wish to pay another visit to the great Lady of Asgard. I am sure they would love little more than to fuss over you."

I chuckled and tried not to let being called 'the Lady of Asgard' bother me. "I will be sure to call upon them soon."

We exchanged our final partings, and he joined his fellows, mounting his black charger in an effortless motion. I watched them go, their horses' hooves beating noisily upon the cobblestones. As I lifted my hand in farewell to Fandral and Hogun, my mind drifted back to Faradei's words. _You thrive in the disorder_. Even if I desired nothing more than peace and quiet, Asgard would never grant it to me. Yet I could not find it in myself to be concerned about it in the slightest. Perhaps I was never meant to live a life of utter tranquility. Perhaps that was never what I wanted.

With a heavy sigh, I looked to Arlessa and Orvar before turning to make my way towards the sparring grounds in the hopes of paying Sif a visit prior to her departure for Nidavellir. Just as I turned, I very nearly walked into a tall, firm figure. Thankfully, the sedate speed of my dawdling body kept the minor mishap from escalating into a disastrous collision. "Oh! My apologies." When I peered up to see the owner of the expansive chest, I realized that it was Thor.

"The apology is mine," he replied, beaming. "I approached with the assumption that you were aware of my presence."

"No harm was done." Brow furrowing, I canted my head. "I thought you left for Midgard this morning?"

His grin grew a little wider. "That was my intention, but I succumbed to distraction on the sparring grounds."

 _A distraction by the name of Sif_ , I thought. "Ah, so your 'mission' on Midgard wasn't a falsehood imparted to unload all of your kingly responsibilities upon Loki?"

Thor had the decency to look abashed. "I would never do that if it were of great import. The most menial of tasks, however..."

"Dragonlings in Nidavellir, a menial task?" With the playful roll of my eyes, I could not suppress my amusement. "Then I suppose you do not regret appointing Loki to his position."

"Not at all, if you can believe it."

"I can." It was heartening to see that his faith in Loki had not wavered despite the many protestations. What was even more heartening was the fact that his faith had never been proven to be misplaced. "The wellbeing of Asgard is more significant to him than many realize. He is nothing if not dedicated."

For a moment, Thor frowned, a shadow passing over his features. "There was a time when I did not think I could ever trust Loki again. But we've since fought side by side, faced the end of the Cosmos together... and he is still my brother." With a faint breath of laughter, he shook his head. "I know many have questioned my decision to allow him such authority. Many have even questioned whether or not I am of sound mind. All the same, I do trust him."

I snorted softly. "If that is the mark of madness, then neither of us are of sound mind."

Though Thor chuckled, his mirth seemed to fade into an uncommon show of sincerity. "Truth be told, it was not Loki's shrewd mind that leant to my choice. You may be right to say Loki is dedicated to Asgard." His eyes gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the grand entrance when he gazed down at me. "But the one thing in this universe to which Loki is most dedicated is you. He cares about you first and foremost, and I know I can trust him because of that."

"You think his love for me matters that much?" I asked.

"I do believe it matters the most." Thor thumped a hand on my shoulder, this time with a surprising amount of restraint. "He trusts and relies upon you. Which is why I am more than happy to leave Asgard in your capable hands while I am gone."

My cheeks grew warm at the implication, and I loosed a heavy breath in an attempt to dispel the feeling. "Of course, you best go soon." I pressed up on my toes to kiss his cheek. "Give my greetings to the Avengers."

"I will," he replied. "The mishaps on Midgard never seem to cease. It appears they will always require my might."

A laugh accompanied the shake of my head. "Ever so—"

Pain churned through me, causing me to double over, hands clutched around my belly. Thor came to my side and clasped my elbow to support me, frantic questions spilling forth. Even as I perceived his confusion, I could not discern his words, for the escalating ache twisting through my abdomen kept me from comprehending anything else. The pangs I'd experienced earlier in the day were negligible compared to this. There was no need to hazard a guess as to what was happening.

I was in labour.

"Oh Norns..."

That seemed to be enough to prompt Arlessa into action—she'd been prepared to take action for weeks now. Circling around Thor, she took my other arm in her grasp. "We must get you to the healing room immediately, my lady."

Without another word, Thor and Arlessa gently guided me forwards, but not before I glanced back at Orvar. "Find my husband! He'll have reached Bàhn Modan by now."

Orvar bowed and did not hesitate to dash through the grand entrance to retrieve a horse.

The walk to the house of healing was made swift by virtue of the support provided by Thor and Arlessa. I took Thor's hand in mine, peering up at him. "Should you not be venturing to Midgard?" I asked. "You are late as it is."

Thor shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We do not expect to begin the mission until tomorrow," he said. "And I would not leave you now. They can wait if need be."

Wordless, I smiled and nodded, comforted by his mere presence.

We reached the healing room in little time. Most of the beds in the lengthy chamber were unoccupied, save for those nearest to the door where Volstagg and Hildegund were sitting with Marawen—a consult about his prosthetic leg, I presumed. Brusque as ever, Marawen leapt from her seat to attend to me, not even bothering to spare a word for Volstagg and Hildegund.

"Step back, let me see her." Waving Arlessa and Thor away, Marawen took my arm and set me on the fourth bed from the door. "Contractions? How far apart?"

I grit my teeth as another contraction gripped my whole being, squeezing and twisting. "I... I don't know. They've only just begun."

Marawen gave a curt nod and shouted, "Sigrun! Time her contractions."

From a chair in the far corner of the room, Sigrun sprang to her feet and hovered over me with a small sandglass in hand. As Marawen bustled about, collecting all that was needed for the coming birth, Hildegund approached to offer me a tumbler of water. I accepted it eagerly and took several large gulps, pausing only to take in deep breaths.

Balanced almost precariously on the edge of the bed, I felt the full brunt of the circumstances. Tears threatened to well in my eyes, and for one fleeting moment, I wished Frigga were here. I wished she could guide me. Support me. As I hoped she would have been able to do well into our lives. Most of all, I simply wanted her to be here for this, to bear witness to the birth of what we would have considered her grandchild.

Again, a contraction wrenched at my insides. I groaned and gripped my stomach, the tumbler nearly slipping from my hand. But Hildegund was swift, taking the glass to place it aside before brushing her hand over my brow. "It's all right, Eirlys. Just take deep breaths. If you feel like you need to walk, you can. I was pacing up a storm when I had Gudrun."

With a shaky breath, I took Hildegund's hand, and she helped me to my feet. When I began pacing up and down the aisle between the rows of beds, I caught sight of Arlessa, Volstagg, and Thor lingering by the door. All three of them looked rather uncertain of what to do. In the back of my mind, I found their unease amusing, but I was much too consumed by my pacing to comment on it.

Concentrating only on my own breathing, I paid little heed to anything else until movement at the door drew my attention. My heart leapt and settled in an instant. In the doorway was not who I was hoping to see, but it was a welcome addition to our company nevertheless. Sif entered the room, her eyes meeting those of Thor before she made her approach.

I pressed a hand to my chest, smiling at the sight of her still dressed in her armour. "Sif? What are you doing here?" I asked, coming to a halt. "I thought you'd been called away to Nidavellir. You needn't be here for this."

Sif scoffed and exchanged a look with Thor. "Of course I do," she replied. "Eirlys, you are my dearest friend, and you are about to give birth. I'm not going anywhere. None of us are."

A pleasant lightness seemed to spread from my heart, filling my chest. I gave her a hug as best I could considering my current size and increasing soreness. Just as I was on the verge of voicing my gratitude, I backed away, hands clutched around my tensing abdomen, as if I could mitigate the pain brought about by the contractions. Sif's grip on me tightened, and she led me towards my designated bed.

"All right, everyone, you must wait in the corridor!" Marawen declared, hastening back to my side with a bowl full of water. Sigrun and several other healers—Gaila and Lyress, both healers who I'd apprenticed beside—remained behind her, awaiting instructions. The ordinarily severe Marawen stopped next to Sif, her expression a touch less stern for the briefest of moments. "Even you, Lady Sif."

Casting me one last look, Sif offered an encouraging smile before departing from my side to join Thor and the others on their way out.

"Hildegund is right," Sigrun said to me, her voice infinitely gentler than that of Marawen. "You should walk a little, if you prefer."

Once my friends exited the room, I stood still for several long moments, resting my hands on my belly, my heart sinking. Despite being surrounded by my familiars, I felt oddly alone. Where was Loki? His absence weighed me down, gripping me with a strange sense of unease. With a deep inhale and an equally deep exhale, I began walking up and down the chamber once more. My chest tightened, the heavy thud against my sternum near unbearable.

I paused to address Gaila. "Where is my husband? I want him to be here."

"I know not, my lady," she said, her tone warm. "I am certain he will arrive soon."

Doubt flooded my mind. I'd always pictured Loki at my side when the baby was born. I didn't like to imagine otherwise. I wanted him to be here. I needed him to be here. Wringing my hands at the thought, I stopped only when another contraction wracked my body. As soon as it passed, I walked again, pausing to drink and eat a little some minutes later.

The healers stayed with me at all times, providing whatever I may have needed. It felt like days went by—in truth, it was mere hours. Endless hours. And with every passing hour, my worries and fears heaped on top of one another. What if Loki could not be found in time? What if he could not return fast enough? _What if the baby arrives and Loki is not here?_

When what must have been the hundredth contraction tore at me from the inside, all the healers in the room descended upon me.

Sigrun was at my elbow first. "Less than two minutes apart now."

For one ludicrous moment, I thought to resist their guiding hands to demand where Loki was before I recognized that it would make no difference. The baby was coming _now_.

They escorted me to a bed further in, one that had been piled high with dozens of pillows, and eased me onto the soft, thick sheets. After propping me upright against the cushions, Gaila removed my hair comb and placed it on the bedside table with a careful hand. Turning back to me, she pressed a moist towel to my forehead, the coolness soothing. Before I could revel in this simple pleasure, a figure of black and green came barrelling into the room.

The imagined burden of facing this trial by my lonesome lifted from my shoulders when I saw him. His gaze passed over the healers scurrying between us until he found mine. They cleared a path, allowing him to pass them by, his green cape billowing behind him as he marched across the chamber to kneel at my side.

When he took my hand in his, I took in his appearance—hair in disarray, eyes watery, cheeks reddened. I quirked a brow. "Loki, did you run here?"

"Run here?" he scoffed. "Don't be absurd. I rode my horse to exhaustion to reach you. The guard you sent took far too long to locate me; I should have him flogged."

"Please do not have Orvar flogged." I could not be certain of whether or not he was being facetious. Either way, a laugh burst through my lips, which soon gave way to yet another contraction. The sheer pain of it coursed through me, and I crushed Loki's hand with mine in some attempt to alleviate the torment. It was an anguish that rivalled the greatest of which I'd ever felt before. That notion sent my pulse racing, a terrible chill surging through my veins before the pain settled, ever threatening to rise again.

Gripping Loki's hand harder, if at all possible, I leaned closer to him, my eyes brimming with tears. "I'm scared," I murmured. "I don't know if I can do this."

He did not seek to console me with empty soothing words, nor did I expect him to. Instead, he chuckled and tucked his free hand beneath my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. "Eirlys, you've faced Dark Elves, sorcerers, demons, the Mad Titan, even Surtur himself," he said. "If you can endure every other peril the Nine Realms has thrown into your path, I am certain you can accomplish this."

"Loki..."

His eyes softened then, and he pressed his brow to mine, the unexpected gesture making my heart twist. "You can do this."

At my feet, Marawen tugged up the skirt of my dress and removed my smallclothes. Several seconds passed before she appeared in my sightline, just over my knees. While the other healers gathered around her, Gaila came around to stand on the side of the bed opposite to Loki. After a moment, when everyone was in place, Marawen nodded. "You're dilated and ready," she said. "It's time to push."

Something made me hesitate. I glanced at Loki, my chest rising and falling with strained breaths. He was right. I'd faced all manner of things. I'd survived all manner of things. I took part in averting Ragnarök, wielded the Aether, and helped banish Surtur from this universe forevermore. _I can do this_.

Marawen looked at me again, and I was surprised to see her expression was not full of the irritation I expected. She gave a soft smile and nodded once more. "Eirlys, push now."

With a deep breath, I did as she bid.

I squeezed Loki's hand in mine, screams spilling unbidden from my lips. I'd suffered many pains over the years. I carried scars born from the worst of them, some visible and some unseen: the arrow wound on my side, the terrible invasion of my mind, the jorgandr venom burn, the heartbreak, the deaths of loved ones. It seemed strange that pain of such magnitude could be the herald of death—and yet it could also bring forth life.

I had no way of knowing how long it lasted. Agony wash over me in waves while I pushed when instructed, my hold on Loki never loosening, the cold compress at my brow offering minimal comfort.

Again and again, I pushed and pushed.

"Just one more, Eirlys! You're nearly there."

Then, as one last scream tore through my throat, another voice joined my own.

The baby's cry filled the room, and I gave way at the sound, slumping back against the mountain of pillows, panting in a desperate vie to catch my breath. My hand grew slack within Loki's, but he did not let go. I lifted my eyes, my vision growing bleary but not bleary enough to rob me of his smile. He did not speak. He simply leaned close and pressed a kiss to my damp brow, the simple affection all but overwhelming.

Marawen approached some moments later, a well-wrapped bundle in her arms. "Here she is," she murmured, bending at the knees to shift the baby into my arms. "You have a healthy daughter."

I sniffled, tears burgeoning in my eyes. Heart swelling, I held her to my breast, fingertips trailing gently over the soft tufts of dark hair curled atop her head. She squinted in the sun, the light proving far too much for her eyes. Eyes that were experiencing the world for the first time. I caressed her tiny fingers, my thumb almost larger that her entire hand. With a trembling breath, I looked at Loki and met his glistening eyes.

Angling myself nearer to Loki, I held her towards him, and he took her into his hold, his touch more careful and tender than ever before. He cradled our daughter close, his gaze taking in every last detail of her small features. "Welcome to Asgard, Alleria."

He stared at her, silent and in awe. Like he could not believe something so wonderful could ever exist.

When he returned her to my arms, I heaved a great sigh and leaned my head into Loki, my brow against his neck. He rested his chin atop my head and hugged me close, his long fingers stroking Alleria's cheek as her eyes opened a little wider. Hazel. With flecks of green. She had my eyes. My mother's eyes.

We remained as such for a time, the healers scuttling about to maintain my comfort and clean up as best they could. After a fashion, once I was made moderately presentable with a blanket pulled over my legs and up to my waist, our friends and family entered the room. Volstagg's cheer and Thor's deep chuckle were the first signs of their approach. Sif utterly beamed at us, and I could not help but laugh at her expression.

Everyone gathered around, gazing down at Alleria, brimming with delight. Loki relinquished his hold on me to draw away, but I tugged on the lapel of his overcoat to gift him with a fleeting kiss and did not let him stray any further.

I nestled close to Loki, our daughter between us, and wished this could last forever. For once, we were at peace. We did not live in the shadow of death. Even so, there was no knowing how long it would remain that way. Our world would never see such serenity. All we could do was revel in the quiet moments and treasure the life and hope that they bestowed upon us.

Leaning back, I found Loki's gaze, his eyes shining in the midday sun. No matter what the future brought, there seemed very little that we could not endure. We'd withstood the worst the Cosmos had to offer. We'd been forced apart, forced to fight, forced to risk our lives for one another. We neared the very ending of the universe itself and turned back from it. We protected each other, no matter the cost.

And yet, of everything that we'd done, one endeavour surpassed all the rest.

Together, we built a home.

* * *

 _fin_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I suppose this will be my final author's note for this story. Let me just start off by saying a huge thanks to all of my readers, whether you've been here since the very beginning or you're here now long after I've posted. It's been a blast sharing this with all of you.

I also want to say thanks to my original beta, Hr'awkryn. I don't know if you'll ever see this, but I hope you know your help was indispensable and I learned a lot from you as a writer.

Five years ago this month, I started writing this story as a kind of experiment. I wanted to see what I was capable of as a writer, and I wanted to play around with the idea of writing a redemption story for Loki. This was the result. It's had its ups and downs, and for a moment there I was afraid I wasn't going to finish. But I'm glad I did, even if it took me years and I lost a lot of readers along the way. Now I'll have to say goodbye to Eirlys and the journey she's taken. It's been an epic ride.

As for me, I'll keep writing without a doubt. Whether or not that involves more fanfiction, you never know!

Please feel free to leave a review. I'll always read and appreciate them. And if you have any questions, I'll do my best to respond.

Fare thee well, my dear readers.


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